Bereft of Hope
by Tsuki-no-Kurokage
Summary: Suffering from an unknown ailment, Hitsugaya has no choice but to retire to Karakura Town. When his condition suddenly takes a turn for the worst, a dark cloud begins to loom over Soul Society as strange creatures invade the town. Semi-AU.
1. Prologue

_Well, like I stated in my profile, I'll be posting the prologues first. I'm more or less concerned about future updates, but I want to keep an eye on the current few ongoing stories. I promise I'll try to update as soon as possible. Disclaimer, I obviously do not own Bleach, but this plot birthed from a week of random dreams and stemmed from my depression that my parents don't want to pre-order the D-Dust dvd for me because I'm underage for Bleach (age so does not matter; it's how we look at things that counts). I'll still be begging._

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 00**

**Prologue**

* * *

Soul Society had never been in a state as rushed as this.

For the first time in centuries, unranked officers were included in captain matters, and were given important tasks to carry out, such as the decorating of the banner that could harbour even Jidanbou himself, though it was highly not recommended for the giant gatekeeper to keep it as a blanket when winter nights at Seireitei were dangerously freezing. More than two hundred shinigami were assigned to work on the banner, with a mere fraction being seated officers. Along with the banner came the preparation for food; they were asked – ordered, rather – to think of creative designs along with the theme as well as make the food highly palatable even in frozen state.

Most of the seated officers were given a lighter workload compared to the unranked; they were merely in charge of supervising their subordinates. Where such an elaborate matter was concerned, all ranks were treated as equals, for strength nor tactfulness were needed here, and they were given about the same task to carry out: supervision. How well this would turn out to be relied on them.

Lieutenants and captains were probably the busiest of bees. It was compulsory for them to invite all those related to the guest-of-honour, prepare large gifts or bouquets intended, and most importantly, make a special trip to the real world not only to shop for fanciful human fashion, which they were supposed to turn up in on the very special night everyone was preparing for, but also to send out the invitations to the former ryoka. Yes, this was probably the event of the year. And Yamamoto had hoped that it would be the last.

No one, except for the captains, knew why things had to turn out in their disappointment, but they could have no argument about it. Some shed tears as they prepared for the large dinner, while others put up a mask and focus solely on making the night the most memorable for the next few decades. Matsumoto was one of the stronger-willed who was ever ready to prepare for the grandest of affairs.

And when the shinigami daikou, Kurosaki Ichigo, arrived at Seireitei upon receiving the anticipated yet unknown invitation from Renji, he was, to say the least, given a pleasant 

surprise when he landed his intent gaze on every single shihakushou that dashed past him without acknowledging his presence, arms full of loads and decorations, scraps of coloured paper dancing in the sky, and the drops of paint staining the soil wherever they went.

"Hey, you two! Be careful with the paint, won't you! If this keeps up, the soutaichou won't allow us to make another trip to the real world just to buy more of them!" the strawberry blonde shouted out with exasperation, suddenly appearing beside the very much confused substitute shinigami. He blinked at the sight of waterfalls streaming down her forehead, the back of her shihakushou tainted with seemingly darker shades while her hair as ruffled and wild as weeds. If not for the fact that the bags under her eyes were completely hidden by her golden locks, while the scent of sake still hung thick in the surrounding air, Ichigo would've had started getting suspicious about whether or not this was the Rangiku-san he knew from before.

"...Yo, Rangiku-san."

Matsumoto turned, sticking out her cherry red lower lip. Ichigo could've had sworn his throat hurt after he let loose a yelp at the patches surrounding her eyes. "Ichigo-kun? You came earlier than I thought."

"Well, I don't have anything to do at home anyway, and when Renji told me something big was going on and that I have to be included, I just had to come." Scanning her entire frame, with the exception of her heavenly valleys that were fortunately blocked, he raised an eyebrow. The sake bottle topping the mountain of what seemed like decorations and other kinds of junk stored in the box resting in her grasp was the focus point, but then again, the fact that some corners of her shihakushou were dyed with paint itself stood out more. "What's going on here? Everyone looks like they're getting ready for something special…but most importantly, you look horrible. What, something happened with Toushirou again? Speaking of that little rascal, how come I didn't see him with the other captains when they passed by me earlier?"

Matsumoto blinked. "You mean…you don't know? Renji didn't tell you?"

"Know…Know what?"

She bit her lower lip, blue grey eyes gluing themselves to the floor, her fingers digging deeper into the cardboard in her arms. "Taichou is officially retiring, Ichigo-kun. This…is his farewell party that we're preparing for."


	2. A Much Needed Break

_I've prepared only one or two chapters of every story in case of an emergency. Well, seeing as I probably won't be able to get on the com for more than half hour for the next five weeks, this is an emergency chapter. I just want to feel better because I've been feeling guilty about not being able to post anything as of late... As always, I don't own anything but the plot; intended Au, because the winter war never actually happens. Ichigo and Hitsugaya are not in a relationship, but rather are still just what Hitsugaya regards as 'comrades in combat'. Over time, though, I'll make something happen._

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 01**

**A Much-needed Break**

* * *

He sucked in a deep breath, and sighed. Lying against whatever comfort the futon could provide him with, the young shinigami closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep. Though he always felt that it was a pity to take a nap on such a nice day, he really wasn't quite up to it; the sudden downpour from earlier did not seem to stop, and all he could smell in the little hut of his was the fresh dampness of the drops descending from heaven's clouds. It tempted him, greatly, if he couldn't say so himself, but he merely shook it away and turned to his right, resting his left wrist on the pillow.

As much as he hated to admit it, Hitsugaya was in deep conflict with himself. The fact that the smell of rain was still fresh in the atmosphere did not help either. The retirement party was to be held the night after the next, too soon for any of the present captains' liking; it was on his request that it was made quickly, and held at its possible earliest. Right as he was lying there like some invalid, his subordinates could be running for shelter, desperately trying to bring in that outrageously huge banner with them and keep the losses at minimum. His fingers curled to a fist; he would've had offered to help in the preparations, but on one hand, since he was the one leaving Seireitei, he shouldn't be involved in it, and on the other, he was in no state to.

Unohana had strictly imposed the rule of full bed rest on him; if he were to move so much as a mere few feet, it would all fall back to square one of the treatment, which she warned was the most painful part of the full treatment sessions. No, he wasn't afraid of the pain; that was the least of his worries. He just couldn't keep up with this any longer. He didn't want everything - the bed rest, the retirement, everyone's helping hand - for naught. Hitsugaya wanted to move, he just wanted to move, dammit. But even after that one full month of nothing but rest, the most he could hope for would be a short trip from the West Gate to his home in Junrinan. He couldn't get into Seireitei even if he wanted to.

"...Tch," he muttered under his breath, turning back to his left. The rain refused to stop; the cries of the various shinigami in Seireitei travelling from wherever they were to where he was lying, and...was that the soutaichou's reiatsu coming closer and closer? He just deemed it impossible to even sense someone's reiatsu now, even if it was one month he couldn't have had recovered that soon.

But true to his senses, the heat intensifying the kitchen was certainly radiating off into even to the room he shared with his dear obaa-chan. The lids over the emerald eyes opened as soon as he heard her voice, giving the leader of Seireitei the warmest of welcomes. The old, raspy voice followed, asking her to dispense with the ceremonies; after all, he said, it wasn't a business trip. He was merely paying his colleague a visit to check on his current condition. And at that, Hitsugaya almost coughed aloud, the other captains' reiatsu clouded his senses; what were they thinking, letting out their reiatsu like that...taichous should be masking themselves from anyone's senses, or were they just being a little bit careless on their part?

The tuft of white hair shifted, a pained moan beating against his lips as Hitsugaya struggled to get up. Turning his piercing gaze into the world outside via the petite frame of a window, he stared at the translucent blanket which the rain had to offer. The sky lit up fiercely for a few seconds, earning shrieks sourcing from nearby houses as the sharp clap's sheer force transcended that of the flash before it. It was silent, for a mere moment, with the exception of the stew the sky was brewing. Hitsugaya gave his head a shake, resting his forehead against his palm; he almost flinched when the door opened only to have an extremely chilling hand move his own away and tap against his forehead. No doubt this hand belonged to the head doctor of Seireitei...no one else in the Gotei 13, other than his fukutaichou, would be in the right frame of mind to feel for a fever, though maybe Ukitake and Kyouraku would be happy to - Ukitake being closer to him, compared to other captains, and Kyouraku just wanting to take the chance to have physical contact with him; at the thought, the soon-to-be former captain gave a mental scoff.

He gave the hand a light push, mumbling to the raven-haired doctor that he was fine who casted her worried eyes on him when he strained to get up on his own feet, only to have the old head captain shake his head disapprovingly. It was only when Ukitake gave his shoulder a light push did his knees give way; resisting the urge to bite his lower lip, Hitsugaya staggered for a bit before giving a nod of acknowledgement at the other taichous' presences, slowly falling back to his futon, though he strongly insisted on sitting up.

Yamamoto's brows furrowed at the youngest captain's persistence, and left it at that. "Hitsugaya-taichou, how are you feeling today?" Standard question; it just had to be asked. Ordinary in its own way, as everyone put it, but when Hitsugaya heard the sincerity behind those spoken words, he softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing a little.

"Better," he answered simply. He didn't wish to go beyond single words; his throat was practically on fire, and it seemed that the way his voice cracked on the word did not go unnoticed by the others. Emerald eyes narrowed, but nothing else came out.

"We come here today, Hitsugaya-taichou, in hopes of being able to convince you to stay in the Gotei 13." At Ukitake's sentence, the grandmother of said white-haired captain entered the room, but kept her lips sealed while glancing at Hitsugaya sitting up on his bed. He really shouldn't be sitting up, she figured, but it wouldn't do his body any good if he kept lying there so stiffly either. And what was this about trying to convince her little Toushirou to stay? Was he leaving Seireitei?

The fact that just two weeks ago her dear grandson came to her in the arms of the jet black-haired woman was, by itself, enough to send her scurrying for a bucket of clean water which she dipped the towel in and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. She intended to ask for the reason why Toushirou returned home without first informing her beforehand, and why he looked so ill, but the kind doctor did not reply to her question, telling her that it was her grandson's wish to keep it under wraps. While Unohana felt the obligation to answer to her - being a doctor, she couldn't not keep family members informed about their loved one's medical condition - she, too, was under direct orders from the soutaichou to keep Hitsugaya's matter a secret.

Even when Toushirou was awake, which was during seldom instances, he told her that he didn't want to talk about it. Even when she insisted, he would then proceed to tell her that it wasn't anything to be taken so seriously and that it would all be fine after two more weeks of staying over with her. She couldn't say she wasn't happy to see him - she was elated, overflowing with joy - but what good was it if Toushirou wasn't happy about something that seemed to be on his mind?

When the perturbing silence settled in, Ukitake held back a sigh and continued, "We really hope you'll stay in our ranks; your condition may be time-consuming, but there really is no need to take it so far as to officially retire, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Grandmother stiffened; her Toushirou, retiring? For whatever reason it might've had been, it couldn't have been that serious... "That's right, Hitsugaya-kun," Kyouraku followed soon after. "For all we know, you may be up and about soon. It could be today, it could be tomorrow, but someday, you'll be able to regain what you've lost. Rangiku-chan is really anxious to see you, you know. You're making everyone so worried, even after the recent happening..."

The 8th Division captain was wise not to mumble the last sentence aloud; the previous incident was proved to be a tad bit too sensitive when spoken in the white-haired child's presence. He tipped the straw hat on his head, hiding his grim frown; perhaps it had been a mistake right from the start to investigate the matter so thoroughly. While it wasn't anyone's fault that they had to witness that eye-opener of the final battle, only a fool would be so stupid as to not notice that the young boy merely wanted to settle it on his own, finishing everything on his own, finding the answers on his own, and most importantly...keep the fight to privacy's minimal limits.

Even now, that stubborn streak was unwilling to leave. He didn't know if he should be happy that Hitsugaya was still the same Hitsugaya everyone knew, or if he should sympathize with the poor boy for having lost the most valuable of things that meant his entire world to him. He wasn't one to talk about such things, let alone admit that he was upset over his own losses, but the way he kept those beautiful jewels of this to the floor, fingers curled in tight fists and mouth forming a fine line that was so small it was barely noticeable, was enough to tell a story. Kyouraku shifted his gaze over to the trembling figure standing by the door; the poor lady, she probably wasn't informed about any of this.

It was almost as if Hitsugaya had placed a bakudou seal on his own lips. But whatever the captains took turns in saying - Soifon saying that Soul Society needed all the manpower possible, Unohana kindly reminding him that interacting with konpaku filled with spiritual energy would aid in his recovery, Komamura saying that it was foolish to let his shattered pride affect him this much with Byakuya nodding slightly, Zaraki simply muttering that he wanted to spar with the 'kid' right from the start of the whole recent happening with Mayuri not saying a single thing - he appeared to have turned a deaf ear to them. He didn't seem to hesitate when he softly cleared his throat, swallowing a small lump of saliva, before he opened his mouth and said so softly:

"I have other reasons to retire."

That alone seemed to have had been enough to gain Yamamoto's approval of his decision, nodding in his direction. It was just Hitsugaya-taichou's style to keep everything to himself; he wasn't satisfied with the lone fact that his current state was made unknown to the other shinigami of Seireitei. There were other factors that everyone had to consider, and it seemed that he had considered long enough. Two weeks away from the bustling life of the shinigami within Seireitei's walls; would he dare say that Hitsugaya had not thought it through within these two weeks? They were more than enough, the old captain believed. And if this truly was the child's final decision...well, even as soutaichou, he did not have any right to order him to stay without giving good enough reasons to.

He heard someone take in a deep breath, and held up a bony hand at Ukitake, shaking his head slightly. The sickly 13th Division taichou stepped back, hung his head low, and masked a cough. "If that is your final decision, Hitsugaya-taichou, we, as captains of the Gotei 13, will have to respect your decision," Yamamoto simply stated monotonously, turning away to the door. "However, if you wish to return to Seireitei at any time, do inform me beforehand. We will welcome you back into the Gotei 13, even if you haven't fully recovered by then."

However, the tuft of white hair gave a slight shift as eyelids fell over his emeralds. "Thank you very much for the offer, soutaichou, but I have decided that I will return only to visit. Nothing more than that," Hitsugaya added, lowering his head in a bow. Yamamoto sighed, giving him his final word, before asking for the others to return to their respective divisions as soon as they reached the West Gate. Unohana casted him another of her worried, motherly glances - something just wasn't quite right, when she touched him earlier - but with the storm raging on, she couldn't dwell on it in the house any longer; it wasn't a suggestion to return to Seireitei immediately, it was an order.

"Toushirou, my child," she heard the frail grandmother speak with such tender love to the 10th Division captain and turned, allowing herself a small frown as the older knelt by her grandson's side, sandwiching his hand with her own. "Why did you not tell me about this? Did you plan to keep it from me until the ceremony is over?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she stroked Hitsugaya's pale cheek with a bony finger. "Am I not your grandmother, but someone who shouldn't be informed in the first place?"

"...No." The head of the 4th Division swallowed a small lump of saliva; the way his voice cracked, not because of his inflamed throat, but because of something else altogether, made her frown even more before she turned away, unable to carry on looking, and left the hut with her heart's reluctance. "I have my reasons, baa-chan."

"Can you tell me about it?" Silence. "I see...you're not ready to talk about it. If it's what you want, Toushirou, then I won't ask anymore." Leaning in, she gave him a peck on the forehead, running her trembling hand through his hair. Smiling faintly, she picked up a towel from the basin near the futon and tapped the sweat off his forehead, wiping his neck soon after before leaving the cloth folded on his forehead. "Now get to sleep. I think you need all the rest in the world, child."

As she stood up on her feet and closed the door behind her, Hitsugaya, lying on his back, turned to face the little window on his right. With the rain's soft patting playing a melody to his ears, he closed his eyes, letting out another of his sighs, and finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Unfortunately, seeing as Ichigo arrived the soonest compared to his 'human companions', as dubbed by the one and only blonde fukutaichou of the 10th, he had to lend a helping hand and help with the preparations. With the unexpected showers, that plan seemed to have had a need to be cancelled. Though it was a waste to arrive this much earlier - according to Rangiku-san, he was only supposed to arrive the day after - the orange-haired shinigami did not seem to mind too much about it. All that occupied his mind was the fact that the 10th Division was going to be without a captain, again as Matsumoto added.

It was still raining, even heavier than before. Ichigo almost swore out loud when he realised that he had forgotten to bring in the tablecloth; it was probably going to take a whole week for that thing to dry up, even if it was to be exposed to the sun twenty-four seven. Already he could feel some of the unranked shinigami sending glares at him. They must've had worked on it all night through and the product they manufactured within the night was going to be soaking wet with the rain. At least it wasn't the banner, Matsumoto had assured everyone.

Ichigo scratched the back of his head sheepishly, keeping his eyes glued to the wooden tiles he was standing on. Matsumoto sucked on the straw of the juice pack the orange-haired adolescent brought along, though why he actually decided to take it with him still remained a mystery. Snapping the plastic between her teeth, she shifted it front and back repetitively; obviously, it had been a mistake to recruit him into the preparations. There were just so many things on his mind and unlike any of them, Ichigo-kun couldn't handle those things while working. A faint smile dawned upon her rosy lips. "Taichou's in Junrinan, in case you're wondering." Ichigo turned to face her, keeping silent. "He wanted to see his grandmother again, so he's been staying with her these past two weeks."

"And where exactly are they in Junrinan, Rangiku-san?"

With a wink, she tossed the juice box aside. "Wanna come with me to check it out?"

* * *

_The pale blue blanket stretched out to the never-ending realms of the heavens, patches of fluffy white sewn on it until the remaining piece of silky white thread hung loosely, a blade cutting across it and sending it to the icy plain below. Slowly, but truly, it was raining white thread. There was no wind, no visible sign of life whatsoever; the trees that stood there had been long dead, the lands so barren that barely a sprout could thrive even for just one day, and the air filled with such thick iciness that anyone who wasn't prepared could be easily suffocated within a mere minute. Even when a wind finally gave in and blew, it would only sweep the snow off the plates of ice, leaving them exposed to the atmosphere where more snow would fall soon after._

_Yet this plain did not go on till the end of time. At the end of the snow path stood a crystalline tower, which no one could see through nor make out any sound if placed an ear against the wall. Of course, it wasn't like anyone dared to place his ear against a pillar of ice; simply landing a finger on it would cause it to peel, exposing the flesh lying underneath to the stinging cold. No one foolish enough would think about entering that tower; it held nothing but __death, and walking in was akin to opening the gates of Hell for oneself. All that inhabited that tower were seas of tiny crystals and a lone figurine of a dragon._

_Standing in front of this tower had been a silvery white-haired adolescent, his lips so pale the crimson fluid easily stained them. His mouth opened, but nothing came out except for a mist of white, ascending the skies before dissipating. A tentative biting of his own lower lip only caused more blood to ooze out, the metallic taste overwhelming the tip of his tongue, but he didn't care. Reaching out for the door, a blast of icy wind sent him off his feet, but he got up like nothing happened and attempted for the door once more, this time no wind obstructing his way. Sliding it open, he casted his sharp emeralds onto the ice hidden within; nothing but pure white with light hues of blinding blue greeted him, crystals embedded in the walls sparkling with life, inviting him into their humble adobe._

_A voice came out to him, ringing in his ears incessantly. His white brows furrowed, fingers rolling into fists, the boy tried to keep the voice out of his head to no succession. As it continued whispering to him, so sly and sinister like a slithering snake, the tower glistened with the overflowing radiance of the multiple crystals, intensifying with every single word sinking into the white-haired shinigami's mind, until at last he could resist no longer; what were once bright emeralds had dulled to deep, forest green, white lines above them moving apart, forming a fine line. With eeriness that was enough to send chills down anybody's spine, the voice spoke once more:_

_"That's a good boy."_

Hitsugaya sat up, wincing slightly as his back burned as if he had been lying against a sizzling bowl. It didn't help that his head was pounding so violently he could barely see his surroundings clearly; everything was a mere dull brown, with only a ray of light shining through via the little window up there. Thank goodness, he almost sighed aloud, it was just a dream. He wiped the beads of cold sweat off his collarbone - was he sweating? He didn't even realise he was - and relaxed as he lied back down, eyeing the damp towel lying sloppily next to his head. He folded it nicely, frowning as he felt the heat it gave off, and soaked it in the basin of ice water. Seeing as how cold the water was, his grandmother must've had just changed it; he didn't want to know where she had gotten the pieces of ice that didn't even look like ice cubes.

This hadn't been the first time that nightmare, if he should call it that, had plagued his sleep. Horribly, his row of nights was filled with visions similar to the one he just experienced, one clearer after another. The disturbing part was that if, those minutes earlier, he hadn't woken up, he would've had to experience the later half of the nightmare, and he certainly didn't want to know what was in that other half. Hitsugaya had his doubts if that was him in the dream in the first place...for one, his hair wasn't in its usual style; it was drooping by his neck, almost reaching his shoulders even. He ran his hand through his hair, only to find something utterly unbelievable.

Turning towards the water in the basin, he looked closer until the ripples cleared. True enough, strands of white were touching his shoulders, losing their usual spikiness as he could remember them. They weren't wet, neither were there any signs of anyone fixing up his hairstyle. Hitsugaya bit his cracked lip, drawing blood to his tongue, and looked away; it wasn't his hair alone, his lips, too, appeared as if they just recently ripped open, black patches filling the gaps left behind as more deep red hues were painted over his mouth.

This was another reason why he couldn't bring himself to remain as a captain, nor a shinigami, any longer; the sick feeling in his gut could only tell him that if he remained in Seireitei, a calamity would fall upon everyone in Soul Society. His deduction was not completely baseless, for each time he awoke, he would find the entire room engulfed in the after-effects of his icy reiatsu, while in Seireitei, dark clouds continued to loom over it, refusing to disperse until he fell back into slumber. But every time, he noticed as he looked out into the window, the skies would get darker and darker until it almost seemed as if night was the only thing which time flowed through. Already, two shinigami were landed in the 4th Division after being struck by a bolt of lightning.

Hitsugaya cursed under his breath, now that the beam of light shining through disappeared. It didn't seem like it was about to come back for the next few hours.

"Toushirou?" Said white-haired captain glanced up at the door. "You have a visitor."

Shoulders slumping, Hitsugaya stood up from his futon, rubbing his sore joints before sliding the door of the room open. By how his grandmother's tone was like, it was probably someone she didn't know. He only hoped that it wasn't Ukitake with a carton of sweets which covered his face, making him unrecognisable, or the bumbling idiot he had for a fukutaichou skipping out on the procedures of the preparations and showing up with a few bottles of sake; it would be perfectly understandable if Grandmother was ready to chase a drunkard out, seeing that her dear grandson, Hitsugaya thought with a scowl, was far too young to drink and was in no condition to anyway.

The last person he'd like to see would be Hinamori; last time he visited her, she was in such a horrible condition he couldn't even recognise her at first glance and that had been a mere one month ago. It seemed as if time only added more salt to her wounds instead of helping her heal. She should be resting up, not walking around so carelessly like that, and in the first place, she hadn't been told of anything either. The preparations were kept a low profile, while Unohana often moved her rooms where there were no windows and banned her from leaving the room. Too many a time she had, claiming that she was looking for her captain, and once she had caught sight of the shinigami scrambling around with the preparations, wondering if it was a welcome party for Aizen. While no one told her whether it was so or it was the complete opposite, she lived by that belief and Unohana made something up that kept her in the room, saying that if she stayed in her room and not come out, it would make her captain happier with her pleasant surprise.

Hitsugaya clenched a fist. No, it couldn't be Hinamori, if that were the case. _Then who could it--hmn? This reiatsu..._ Upon reaching the main doorway where his grandmother stood, he looked at the figure standing before him, dull green orbs flashing into their previous emerald-like state.

"...Kurosaki?"


	3. Before the Night

_...I think this story is hard to comprehend. I'm not kidding; I don't know what I'm writing at some points. I wanted to bring out the meaning more, but it all just turned out to be sloppy narrative sections that have become the inferential kind. Gomenasai if it gets confusing a little (saying this now just in case for the future...) I'll try to be more direct in the subsequent chapters. And I apologise for taking so long with updates...I'm not exactly free anymore. In fact, this chapter was written last year as a form of backup in case I have no time to update in future. This is probably the best time to submit it._

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 02**

**Before the Night**

* * *

He hadn't a clue why he had agreed. Of all people, he knew his own condition best; and while it stood true that Hitsugaya recently regained his ability to walk longer distances, the white-haired taichou of the Tenth understood what Unohana meant by 'as much rest as possible and refrain from excessive walking'. The previous time he even attempted to take a step closer to Seireitei walls, he collapsed before the gatekeeper of the West could lift the gate for him to enter. The poor giant, he heard from his grandmother, panicked and immediately brought his 'teacher' over to his house, leaving him in the good hands of his obaa-san who woke up in the middle of the night, worrying where her little Toushirou had gone.

However so, this was different. Kurosaki didn't come for a walk, but it seemed as if he felt it was more comfortable talking about something of utmost importance - at first glance, Hitsugaya could tell what he wanted to ask him about, especially for that bumbling orange-haired moron who came to Soul Society earlier than he was supposed to - and frankly, the prodigy didn't know why he said yes to that; his grandmother could only add on to say that it would be good for his health and growth if he took a bit of fresh air every once in a while.

Junrinan was the first district in all respective parts of Rukongai, and being a child from Junrinan, Hitsugaya had never ventured into the deeper parts of West Rukongai. He barely liked the thought of travelling to the other districts, unlike that of Hinamori's love of adventure, though she would instantly regret travelling into as far as the twentieth district and returned home in tears after a group of bullies ganged up against her. All the more Hitsugaya felt that it was best to keep himself, as well as Hinamori, away from them as much as possible.

Besides, being the best of the districts, Junrinan had the purest of air. The white-haired boy wonder could never worry about falling sick even during the harshest of winters; as long as he had the time during the day, where snow would fall from the looming dark clouds over the once pale blue sky, he would take a short breather around the marketplace and indulge in the freezing atmospheric air. For one thing, the cold did more good to his body than bad, and for another, he just liked how nature worked; with fresh, clean air, and dainty snowflakes hiding amongst the strands of his hair, Hitsugaya could be more than satisfied during a five-minute trip around the stalls nearest to his home.

Walking about these streets only made him remember his childhood years, when it seemed as if there was not a care in the world with the exception of his blazing desire to protect his granny and Hinamori from possible dangers. Hitsugaya stole a glance over at the vegetable stall where a couple just left with their supplies of cabbage and potatoes; in the past, he remembered, whenever baa-chan was making soup, she would entrust him with the task of purchasing the goods. The vegetable stall owner knew him the best, often seeing him staring at the array of freshly grown greens. At times he'd pity the boy and hand him a giveaway whenever he witnessed him being chased away by one of his colleagues at this business of selling vegetables. Hitsugaya brought up the scarf Matsumoto lent to him, hiding his lower jaw; it wasn't because that man was kind, he could understand at least that much even though that was years before his current lieutenant found him.

And once again, the same stall owner gave him a shocked stare as he walked past the display of tomatoes, cucumber, beans, and the list went on. Ichigo, walking in front of him, made often turns to check on the captain to make sure he was still fine after walking the distance, and one time he caught the stare and glared back. Hitsugaya would've had elbowed him in the shoulder if not for the fact that no one in Junrinan knew that he was making his retirement earlier than anyone would've had expected it; at least...he should let them believe that he was still a taichou, just for a while longer.

No, it hadn't been because he wanted to grab this chance to demand respect from them. Despite all of his efforts to convince the people of his hometown that he wasn't someone they should fear, they still carried that air of doubt around them whenever they laid their eyes on him. Nothing changed, even though the child they were afraid of, and always will be, had become their protector. However, if they were to be informed of the news, there would be the possibility, which he couldn't just shrug off, that their initial fear for him as a threat and their present fear for him as a captain would simply pile up to the point whereby they would begin doubting every single person that interacted with him.

Already, the vegetable stall owner was prepared to call it a day, packing the signboard before tossing the vegetables into the storage boxes. He was just scared senseless when Kurosaki glared at him; that moron, doing things without realising the after-effects of his actions. He was just that sort of person, Hitsugaya thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and started to ignore all of the intense stares falling upon the pair walking through the street. He realised that, after all this time of wandering around, neither of them had begun to speak.

"...Kurosaki, take the scarf," Hitsugaya muttered, his hoarse voice faltering into such a hushed tone that the strawberry blonde almost thought she was hearing things. The soon-to-be former captain frowned, removing the pink fabric loosely coiled around his neck, and handed it over to her. "I don't need it, and you look like you need it anyway, boke."

"I'm not gonna freeze to death, Toushirou. Keep the scarf; Rangiku-san wanted you to." Pausing slightly, he swallowed a lump of his saliva, turning away from the white-haired taichou's gaze. "Besides, you're sick. You sound like you're being suffocated or something. And I can't ignore the damn fever you have; it's literally steaming, high enough to land you in a hospital. What the hell have you been doing all this while I haven't seen you?" Hitsugaya remained silent. "For the love of--Look, I know the thing with Soujirou has hurt you pretty badly in the past, and this month decided to be a bitch by adding in the salt."

The victim Ichigo mentioned covered his palms with the cherry pink muffler, gluing his eyes to the frosted grounds. He was, admittedly, sensitive to the mentioning of Kusaka's matter, and that had never changed over the decades. He thought the dangerously fatal point of his past could be well-hidden away from everyone else and spoke nothing of it while in the presence of other shinigami, and yet the whole of Seireitei had to find out the hard way; the worst of it all, everyone, from his colleagues to his subordinates, had to witness him dealing the lethal blow to the one who threatened to destroy Soul Society. He didn't want them to know, he didn't want them to see; he merely wished to settle it in his own way where no one would be able to gain the knowledge of what had truly happened. It was a pinch, a rather painful one at that, for them to know, and for him to carry out what he initially intended to.

Truth be said, at the point when he and Kusaka crossed blades for the final time, he harboured the thought of deliberately giving it a miss and letting Kusaka's Hyourinmaru impale him instead. He wondered, though, what could've had been the effects of that; the 'salt', as Kurosaki put it, was added in when he saw that same face again, but it could all be diluted in the end, couldn't it? It all just went down to whether or not he wanted to let the water run and cleanse him of the substance. 'This month decided to be a bitch by adding in the salt', he said; but to the white-haired taichou, it was more like the strawberry of the month decided to be a specially salty one handpicked from the garden.

"But I know you're hiding something, Toushirou. There's no bloody way someone like you would retire as a shinigami just like that; you must have some good reason to." Taking a pause, Ichigo slipped the rose pink scarf out of Hitsugaya's hand and wrapped it loosely around his neck, ignoring all of the snickers and stares from various Junrinan residents. His frown deepening into his features, he stole a glance at the pale, lime green orbs staring back at him while watching his every movement, and patted the stiff, slender shoulder, near biting his lower lip as soon as he felt the heat emanating from the touch. "I took the scarf, just like you wanted me to. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

Hitsugaya opened his mouth, only to have nothing but air coming out; closing it noiselessly, he gathered his thoughts. The white-haired taichou had every intention to say no to the shinigami daikou earlier, but it was for some unknown reason that he just couldn't muster up his voice to form the simple word. Why was it that every time he was with Kurosaki he found it so challenging, so hard to decline with a simple no? This was no different than what he felt during the time Kurosaki so conveniently brought him to his house. There was the strange urge to spit out everything that was on his mind, yet he successfully resisted the temptation to confide in the human-shinigami. He couldn't have any second thoughts about this, not now.

Ever since the matter with Kusaka had been resolved, the string of nightmares began beading itself together. One night after another, Hitsugaya could feel an invisible lining around his neck, as if the necklace was truly there. Occasionally in his subconsciousness, he would reach out to the bead-like objects dangling from a collar-like chain seemingly clamped to his neck; he would awaken from the lack of oxygen at times, and at others, he simply could not get to sleep with the reiatsu stemming from the invisible necklace, clouding his senses and keeping him awake. It wasn't that the soon-to-be former taichou was sensitive to the reiatsu it was giving off, nor was it like he had mistaken it for an adjuchas's reiatsu; it was simply in his nature.

But of course, who would be in the right frame of mind to say that in front of someone else? Only a child would confide in their parents whenever they were stunned awake by a horrible vision fooling around while they were asleep. Hitsugaya may be young, but he won't take it lightly whenever he is compared to a child. His parents weren't around anymore; so what? While it was true that baa-chan would always be by his side, the prodigy would never even think about seeking comfort from anyone other than her, and the number of times he spilled out his worries to his elder could be counted with just both hands. Kurosaki was anything but her substitute; anything, as long as he wasn't the pillar Hitsugaya could feel he could rely on. He was just a nuisance; someone who loved seeking trouble, and someone who simply had a fetish for annoying a lot of people.

Hitsugaya felt that he was no exception to the list of 'a lot of people'. Perhaps, he wondered, he was at the top of the list.

"...What makes you think I'll tell you?" was what the white-haired prodigy began to say, after leaving the orange-haired shinigami with an unspoken answer from earlier. He made an uneasy gesture and pushed the burly hand off his shoulder, glaring into the chocolate brown orbs that were staring at him. "It's none of your business as to what is wrong. In the first place, nothing is out of the ordinary. And even if something was troubling me, I wouldn't tell it to the likes of you. Who do you think you are, Kurosaki Ichigo? You don't even know me."

Every single word, Ichigo cringed and mused to himself, was dripping with the blood of iciness; so stinging, so numb, that the adolescent almost swore that he felt a freezing tingle down his spine, defying all laws of heat and bringing his body temperature down. His hand fell to his side limply, his fingers soon curling themselves into a trembling ball as his brows knitted together tightly; Hitsugaya narrowed his once bright and glistening emerald orbs, the whites now being tainted with a light scarlet hue, and recollected the time the rash shinigami daikou landed a direct punch on his face. Kurosaki, as he appeared, was probably trying to resist the urge to do exactly what he did at that point of time; it wasn't like the taichou was bothered by it, not even in the slightest.

What he said had been nothing but the truth. They didn't know each other until Kuchiki Rukia had been saved, and Aizen, his deception shown for all of Seireitei to know and acknowledge. Their first encounter hadn't exactly been in either of their best interests, leaving Hitsugaya a bad impression of the so-called hero of Soul Society when he dared to mistake him for a child who had wandered around Rukongai and got lost when he 'somehow slipped' into Seireitei, offering a helping hand to get him home and even adding on the two spiteful words: little one. They never interacted much, never had the chance to know each other better; perhaps the only time when Kurosaki actually thought he was somebody to Hitsugaya had been the most recent incident. It infuriated him just by thinking about it.

"Isn't it obvious, you little brat!" Said boy prodigy twitched at the word 'little', and scowled, almost growling like a dragon. Ichigo gave him a hard heave of his shoulders, glowering at the shorter fiercely. "Didn't I tell you before? We're friends, aren't we!? Friends are supposed to help each other when the other has problems! Don't handle everything by yourself and let me---O-oi! Toushirou! Toushirou!"

The loud, obnoxious voice suddenly droned out; Hitsugaya tried to keep his burning eyes open, but failed after a faint struggle with his eyelids. Kurosaki's face, and everything else - the marketplace, the shoppers, the children, and so on - were completely blurred; smudged as if they were painted onto a canvas and swiped across by a cloth before the colours dried. He felt himself falling forward, the light brown soil inching towards him, Kurosaki calling out for him...but could remember nothing else once the world of darkness instantaneously took over the vibrant bazaar.

Ichigo could only prevent the nasty fall by grabbing the other by the arms, incessantly calling out for him to respond but received nothing. Cringing slightly at the sight of the deathly pale face and the faints of lavender dyeing Hitsugaya's lips, he, with all doubt and uncertainty, unfurled his fingers and allowed them to flick away the strands of white before inspecting the pale pink hues of the vessels beneath the closed emerald orbs. While it wasn't necessarily any bit of good news to note that sickeningly light pink shade, it was, at the very least, safe to assume that the much-esteemed child prodigy of Seireitei was not, by any means, in a state of danger. That was for the time being, from what he could deduce.

Unfortunately all of the equipment he needed for testing his hypothesis was in the 12th Division, otherwise the not-so medically-inclined adolescent could've had been able to treat the unconscious captain on the spot. In the past, when he would offer or be forced to help out at the clinic, he had encountered not more than six patients who had long succumbed to the darkness. In one particular case, simply pouring ice over the patient would have its place as a temporary alarm clock assured. However, that could not be said for the others, where it took much trouble and pain in order to help them pull through and buy enough time before they could be safe for transport to the nearest hospital.

Ice wasn't going to be good enough an alarm clock in this case.

In fact it was an abysmal choice. Toushirou would not react much, no matter how much ice Ichigo were to flood the poor taichou with. He was immune to the cold that the substance provided, after all, and would thus not be a wise choice at all. While it might help in bringing that insane fever of his down, even by just a bit, it still wouldn't ensure full consciousness no matter how he looked at it.

_Well,_ Ichigo mused silently to himself, carefully lifting the feverish body bridal-style. _I don't have much of a choice. If taking Toushirou to them will take too long...then I'll just have to take care of the brat myself._

* * *

Soul Society crept into the night long after the incident involving an orange-haired hero and a white-haired taichou respired on the streets of Junrinan. Rukongai was, as did any other evening, cleared of all the stalls while its streets were still bustling with the children, bathed in mud, chasing each other around and their parents watching them with smiles on their faces. When it came deeper into the night, the torches were lit and stories were told before those little adventurers were properly tucked in for bed. The cool, night breeze took a certain toll on the young; it brushed past their eyes, causing a droop of the eyelids, as if lead were hanging off them, and they were put to sleep in almost a split second.

The very opposite, however, could be said for Seireitei. With the shinigami on duty scheduled to patrol the areas and the preparation for the major fest the next night, the word 'relax' could not exist in their timetables. No fukutaichou took the initiative to hit the futon, nor did any taichou command their subordinates to take a breather or have a refreshment. The chances of anyone able to sneak a few minutes napping would be near negative.

By the crackling flames, a few sandaled feet dragged themselves around the designated areas, mostly within those of Seireitei walls. Their comrades were busying themselves with the workload, scurrying around division offices to get the application forms approved and the necessary materials sent. Some caught their fellow division mates enthusiastically offering their services to have whole cartons of sake sent to the divisions that ordered them in case of an emergency (it wasn't like the blissful wine could run out at this rate, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful).

And when the time for a change in shift arrived, the shinigami that were on guard before, when asked, quickly offered to have the supplies delivered to the respective committees that required them. A small group was put in charge of handling the paints and pastels, while another was entrusted with the task of having the special surprise item - devised by none other than Kurotsuchi himself - delivered to the team dispatched by the Bureau of Technology, and then another, burdened with the responsibility of sending multiple types of supplies to the various groups scattered all over Seireitei grounds. Noting their excitement, a few more seated officers could not help but report for work, that is, to help out in whatever way they could with the delivering and not the doing, of course.

The banner was more than complete, its extraordinary length and array of colours splashed across it turning out to be a success; the appointment of the dinner the next time they see the black of day would most likely result in one of the grandest dinners Seireitei would ever witness, with the number of tables used and the grand spread of the food that was about to be prepared by Soul Society's very best chefs; and the final event which would be held in secret at the 10th Division quarters was all for the captains and lieutenants to handle. There was nothing much anyone could help with when everything else was scrapped due to the lack of time on their hands. All that was left was the clearing of the mess left behind by the preparation, but that would be the last of the entire program.

In all honesty, everything and everyone was ready. Far too ready to be believable. The soutaichou had ordered it be made as the most elaborate anyone could think of and the thought of it taking up weeks to get steadily prepared weighed down on the shinigamis' minds. However, they managed to keep within their limit of two weeks; that had been the time when Hitsugaya-taichou was announced to be stepping down not as captain of the 10th Division, but as a shinigami altogether. Undoubtedly, it took all of the men in the 10th Division to convince their captain to stay and lead them, but it all turned out to be for naught when the youngest ever to attain captaincy simply shook his head at everyone who tried to talk him out of it and return to his office.

For majority, or maybe even all, it was their first experience of having a taichou leave the ranks and seclude himself to the life of being a mere konpaku citizen in Rukongai. The parting with the white-haired child prodigy would be, without a question, sorrowful for those who knew him from the academy days or had worked alongside him when they were in the same division, once. But with everything on standby, much readier than expected, would Hitsugaya-taichou get the wrong idea, they wondered. If someone were to say he wasn't happy to have the taichou leave them, it would be a white lie. If someone were to say he wasn't upset to have the taichou leave them, it would be yet another white lie. Would that taichou think of it this way, the thought lingered on in everyone's minds.

...Ah. At last, the final touch was added to the banner.

With a satisfied smile, the girl stood, her jet black hair glistening in the smooth, faint glow of the lit torches. She rubbed the back of her neck, massaged her stiff shoulders, and tossed the paintbrush into the bowl of water before leaving; her part of the banner was done and there was nothing else to do except to report to her captain the progress of the banner before she could depart for a well-earned rest. However so, her mood dampened every time she landed her deep, violet eyes on the words sprawled all over the large piece of cloth, and she couldn't help but frown a little.

"Rukia?"

Said raven-haired shinigami turned towards the voice, her gaze softening at the red spikes moving in her direction. In his arms was a carton of milk atop the box filled with sake jars, properly packed and ready to be sent to its destination. "Looks like the banner's all ready to go, huh." Renji peeped from behind the boxes, glancing at the array of colours splashed over the once white piece of cloth with words of well wishes and farewells. "I can't believe Hitsugaya-taichou is doing this...what the hell could be the reason? I mean, he isn't the kind of taichou who would leave this all behind..."

"...Especially when he's worked so hard."

Both parties kept their eyes glued to the ground as the owner of the voice stepped into the area where the moonlight dawned upon, grabbing a bottle of fresh milk from the redhead and drank to her heart's content. At least she couldn't get her hands on another bottle of sake, Renji mused to himself silently. After all, the stench of the booze was evident and the fact that his fellow colleague hadn't taken a good shower for a few days didn't help the situation. Her tangled hair had been left uncared for ever since she heard about the news; she had lost her interest in beauty products and her ghostly skin easily stood out other than her precious valleys which were, for once, covered up neatly by her shihakushou. She would certainly look more presentable if she could get her ass in her _ofuro_ and start washing up, as well as get those disgusting muddy blades of grass out of her hair.

Restlessly the blonde tossed the empty glass away, swaying like a drunkard even though she hadn't had anything to drink for the entire day (or so they thought). "I don't know why taichou is doing this, but I hope that whatever could be the reason, Ichigo-kun will be able to convince him to stay..." Matsumoto mumbled under her breath, holding her head before she could fall to the ground on her side, and began thinking to herself why her forehead felt unbelievably warmer than usual.

"You sent Ichigo to him?"

She nodded in Rukia's direction to which her fellow SWA member held both hands together in a clenched ball and gave a sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. Snatching another glass of milk like a cat hungrily eating its share of mice, the 10th Division's 2nd-in-command removed the cap and began drinking, ignoring Renji's 'Oi! Don't drink it all!' shout. Tapping the edge of the bottle opening on her lips hesitantly, the older female inwardly smiled and slurped the pure white liquid, licking up the bottle's contents and leaving no drop not savoured by her reddish pink tongue; her inner cat purred more lovingly when she caught sight of Renji practically glaring at a nearby tree for no apparent reason, scaring the infant birds and sending them into a fit of chirping for their parents' attention. It was amusing, to say the least.

In the split second of a smile finding its way to her face, the spike in the surrounding reiatsu shook every shinigami out of their working mode and sent them into a stance; legs apart, shoulders stiff, bending forward slightly as their respective hands curled into fists before inching towards the hilts of their zanpakutou. The strawberry blonde, too, readied herself before her brows slithered into a deep frown not unlike that of her captain's. She recognised this burst of reiatsu. It would take her till the end of her time for her to forget such an explosive power; thinking back now, it was almost as if she were reliving the very moment of her first encounter with the very captain that was leaving the Gotei 13. For an unexplainable reason, to add the salt.

Judging by how...different the reiatsu seemed, however, it was good enough a reason for her.

Without thinking twice, Matsumoto leapt forward, dashing past the trees and subordinates from various divisions. Renji yelled after her, making an attempt to follow while Rukia decided to stay behind and await whatever news there would be for her to take note and report to the captains; from the 6th Division fukutaichou's prediction, it wouldn't take very long before the taichous come down and inspect the area themselves.

"Taichou..." was all the 10th Division lieutenant could muster before she fell silent and shunpo-ed into the streets of Rukongai. Before long, the two shinigami had arrived at the lone hut; they steadied their breathing as they caught sight of the icy mist leaking out from the gaps of the house. Matsumoto took a deep inhale, near choking on how thick the surrounding air had become, and slid the door open.


	4. Dissolving

_I do not own Bleach. It would be far too dangerous for the fandom to fall into the hands of us rabid fangirls-writers anyway. __Inspiration for the Matsumoto & Renji fighting duo came from HTS5 Tag Team system, where their w-finisher is actually very inspirational indeed._

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 03**

**Dissolving**

* * *

Mist shrouded the area, with the slithering of the ice cold air surrounding the lone house chilling the strawberry blonde's skin, sinking into the bone. Particles of chipped ice swiftly formed from the cool atmosphere, falling onto what once was hard, stiff soil where only a few blades of grass could manage to thrive in. Whilst it was apparent that the garden of the house was able to sprout the many lives of crops and flowers, with a glistening pool by the entrance where one could entertain oneself by either observing the swimming koi or play with the unusually yet conveniently chilled water, fertility of the soil was a debatable factor. Yet right there and then, even amongst what was supposedly snow from the darkened skies descending to the earth, the flowers stood tall, their backs not arched as one would expect them to be, while the soil visibly softened under touch and attached itself to the soles of one's footwear, roots of the grass sticking out at the most random of places.

The freezing temperatures of the street of West Junrinan, as well as the dangerously cold monsoon-like weather, had been all the proof Matsumoto ever needed to understand what was going on around the area where her beloved captain used to live in. And the proof still had its validity when her heart, and not her mind, had a twisted knot which gave her an idea that all of this had been her taichou's doing. Whether it was with intent or not, she did not care. With all her soul, she understood that her taichou's every movement came with good enough a reason, and this was definitely no exception, especially since the reiatsu bearing too much familiarity was threatening to freeze the entire Junrinan over.

Behind her, her red-haired companion wheezed as he swiped the mist away from his face. Honestly speaking, the buxom fukutaichou of the Tenth was expecting Renji to be on a much better scale than his current condition. She had seen the pineapple brave adjuchas, arrancars, and even regenerating hollows, but this same pineapple who undeniably followed her to her captain's birth place was scared of a little bit of cold? It was with little wonder that he always made the attempt to escape from the scene whenever he was present to witness someone other than him annoy the white-haired taichou of the Tenth; even if it weren't his fault in the first place, Hitsugaya-taichou would find some form of fault in Renji and treat him like his personal punching bag before deciding to go bug his fukutaichou for the paperwork. Thinking back, Matsumoto was rather pleased with herself for managing to slip into the bar while Renji was caught up in her place, struggling to evade all possibilities of ever crossing paths with her moody taichou again.

Evidently, he had forgotten about that pact and came along with her. Either he was worried about his friend's safety, the soon-to-be retiree's safety or both, for that matter, but whatever the tattooed lieutenant's reason was, Matsumoto was glad and relieved that he had accompanied her.

She had a sick, twisted feeling in the gut that she wasn't about to be able to handle this on her own.

Upon hearing Renji's thumping gulp, the blond woman advanced a step up to the entrance of the hut, only to have a slightly more violent wave of freezing air sweep across her feet. She felt her right foot step back while her left remained where it was, her heart suddenly leaping into a pumping fit. The beads of sweat trickling down her temples and cheeks froze in place as her hand, paler than usual, scraped the crystalline perspiration off along with some of her own skin. Why Matsumoto felt so nervous, she hadn't a clue herself, but she couldn't afford to leave the haunted place alone when there was the chance that her captain - as well as his grandmother, for Soul Society's sake - was confined within the freezing radius which he could've had accidentally created himself.

The blonde knew. She had once eavesdropped on a strictly private captain's meeting when she was making the delivery of the paperwork on her presently ill taichou's behalf. Of course she didn't mean to, but the self-proclaimed Soul Society's number one beauty allowed gravity to drag her and the trembling piles of reports in her arms down to the ground when the decision to keep her superior enclosed within the premises of his own house back in Junrinan had been announced. The soutaichou himself had to coerce her into keeping every detail she heard to herself, as it was meant to be a secret until Hitsugaya was able to recover from his 'mysterious ailment', as dubbed by Unohana-taichou. It had been from that night onwards when she no longer saw the cute, frowning face glaring at the ink on the paperwork; when she no longer saw the familiar snow white hair screaming 'stroke me' whenever she set her curious, blue-grey eyes on it; her life as the Tenth Division lieutenant took a huge turn from that moment on.

Something about fluctuating reiatsu; something along the lines of unable to restrain himself whenever he was on the verge of yelling at someone or even breaking down, for that matter; something...which Matsumoto couldn't comprehend very well. Nevertheless, she was at the doorstep of answers, or what **seemed** to be answers, and there wasn't going to be any good reason why she should back down and leave the matter alone.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the strawberry blonde moved her right foot up, and slowly crept into the house like what she had done those decades back. Renji nervously followed, Zabimaru clattering disapprovingly as the strokes of ice engulfed its physical, metallic body, snow and ice forming along the sheath and seeping into the blade. The redhead could only mimic whatever his leader was doing: grip tightly onto the hilt and provide the zanpakutou with whatever warmth was left in their own bodies. After all, one could only do so much when facing a potential opponent who held sovereignty over water and ice.

They first barged into the most simplistic of rooms, which happened to be the kitchen, but all pots and Japanese tea cups were overturned with layers of ice thickening around the outlines. What appeared to be a basic, dinner table now sparkled with ice, as if it were a miniature crystalline trophy for display. Crushing the creeping ice on their ankles, the pair of fukutaichou-tachi headed for the next room, pulling apart the rough edges of the ice plate in the doorway. Their first step into the room was, undoubtedly, the first mistake they would make in this short, yet hazardous, journey into the Hitsugaya household. Their solution to that mistake? Crack the ice, and make a run for it.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like dragon manifested in the heart of the room was all that willing to let them leave.

At first glance, Matsumoto had suspected it to be the spirit of her taichou's famous zanpakutou, which held the title of being the most powerful of all ice-snow types. If that had been the case, it would spare the both of them the need to wonder what in the world a dragon of icy scales and breath as cold as the air in the North and South Poles with blazing, fiery rubies as its eyes and fin-like scales along its back was doing in a tiny, innocent hut belonging to the soon-to-be former taichou and his most cherished grandmother. Of course, the appearance of such brought along no answers, but even more questions dying to be answered.

In all her years as the Tenth Division fukutaichou, the strawberry blonde had yet to even witness how a wielder of bankai was able to bring the spirit of their zanpakutou into their own material world, much less see her own captain's. At most, he admitted that he himself bore some similarities to Hyourinmaru should he make use of bankai in combat, but that admission only made her cat-like curiosity peak and ponder deeply how the soul actually looked like. All this time, Hitsugaya-taichou had been most unwilling to let Hyourinmaru out into the shinigami world just for the show of it, and he had made certain that Matsumoto did not try to sneak off with his zanpakutou if he were to fall asleep in the midst of completing paperwork. It wasn't like whatever she could do to the ice blade - other than fetching it to the Twelfth Division for 'further inspection' - make the dragon manifest in front of her anyway, but he still had to be careful after all.

Under that stubborn, scowling face, the buxom lady had no other choice but to leave the matter alone lest she became the next victim to her taichou's arctic ice. Over time, Matsumoto came to forget she made such a request, but now, looking at the majestic creature shed its snow scales and wipe the air with a flick of its frozen tail, the memories of her kneeling before her captain and swearing never to drink in the bar again, begging to see his zanpakutou's spirit came flowing back into her mind like a movie clip replaying over and over again. Despite never having the chance to observe one's zanpakutou soul appear before oneself, Matsumoto could tell from the thick, suffocating reiatsu hanging in the atmosphere and the broad, unfurled wings of pure, solid ice which were faintly similar to her taichou's own that this magnificent individual standing tall and proud, jaw closed and mist whooshing out of its nostrils like smoke in a fire, was none other than the very Hyourinmaru the little boy whom she recruited those years ago had mastered.

Why it was even here left them stunned to the ground, succumbing to the ice travelling up their ankles and dangerously into their thighs. Its overwhelming presence kept them rooted, which shattered their initial escape plan into thousands of pieces and crumbled to dust. Renji could not help but bite his lower lip, only to find that it had already begun bleeding profusely, the crimson liquid trickling down to his chin and staining the ice with scarlet droplets. He tried to turn to face Matsumoto, hoping that maybe she came up with a backup plan, but his neck remained stiff and deathly cold. He fought against the freezing air, dragging his right hand which still held its grip on Zabimaru's hilt, and steadily unsheathed the blue blade. It clattered non-stop right from the start; could it be that his other self had long sensed the presence of the mighty Hyourinmaru in the house? Could it be that it was a mistake to even think about stepping in to save whoever was occupying it?

"...Could it be that we were tricked?"

"Eh?" Matsumoto breathed, straining to turn to face Renji. She crushed whatever ice was crawling up her back and grabbing her neck, clenching her teeth as she did so. She exhaled a puff of ashy white, her breaths coming out in straight wisps. "Tricked...? We were tricked?"

Indeed, the Tenth Division lieutenant hadn't given it any consideration as to whether she and her companion were hoaxed, in one way or another, into believing that the fluctuation in reiatsu earlier on had belonged to her captain. Had the trapper been the observant sort, they would've had been able to tell that she, being loyal to her superior, would jump at any sign of potential threat to him and make the effort to help him. In other words, they could put her concern for her beloved taichou to her disadvantage. At the very thought, she grunted at herself, upset that she had fallen for such a low and dirty lie.

She, too, unsheathed Haineko out of its hilt with much force and determination. Glancing at the steel blade from top to bottom, her grip tightened at the sight of how pale her zanpakutou had begun to appear. It was losing its usual shine, the shades of grey were dull, and the tip did not seem to be all sharp as it usually is. It wasn't that she was beginning to even doubt that this was her own sword, but if it was true about the both fukutaichou-tachi being choked in a situation such as this, it would be futile to fight against the deceiver with katana as lifeless as theirs.

Just as her hopes dashed from her, Matsumoto daringly shot her head up, meeting the dragon eye-to-eye. Beside her, the red-haired fukutaichou of the Sixth was busily making use of his blade to scrape the ice off his limbs, almost cursing when it regenerated and was on the brink of sealing his mouth shut, preventing him from yelling out the name of the useful Shakkahou when they were both in desperate need of it. Whispering the name before the ice swept over his lips, a burst of flaming energy from his free palm melted the cage and set him free to proceed on to preventing a gagged blonde from turning into a frozen statue. Bluish grey orbs widened as her body fell limp, breaths raging in a frenzy, whilst her trusted katana laid still beside her, the tip of the blade turned intangible and melting away into thin wisps of ash.

"R-Renji...there...inside there..." Matsumoto wheezed, weakly pointing at the creature responsible for their near-death moments. Coughing, the strawberry blonde reached out for her chipped zanpakutou, forcing to stand on her feet before falling back down to the frozen floor once more. The redhead could only wait for her coughs to halt and her breathing to stabilise, but his eyes never leaving the spot where her finger continued to point at. "We...we weren't tricked... In there...that dragon...taichou and Ichigo-kun are--"

Stopping to cough, she wiped the blood oozing from the corner of her lips and gasped into her left palm, nauseous at the taste of metal spewing out of her mouth and gurgling in her throat. Awkwardly, Renji patted her on the back like he usually would when the blond drinker would suffer a hangover or declare to the world that she was about to puke, but the raspy coughs would not stop. He paused to ponder over what Matsumoto had told him not too long ago, and gritted his teeth as he shot daggers at the dragon, narrowing his eyes into thin slits as he scanned the entire belly of the mythological being. It didn't take his sharp eyesight very long to catch a glimpse of spiky hair and a body of great build whose arms were carrying what seemed to be an unconscious young boy.

_'There,'_ Renji bit his lip, raising Zabimaru high into the air and declaring its name. He swung the fully transformed blade down at the dragon, giving a loud battle cry as he continued his slashes whilst being wary of the fact that his good pal and superior were trapped within the creature itself.

However, whatever he attempted to do never failed to result in a dragon, in which its body would dissipate into mist and give way to the swinging blade before reforming. Its intangibility was like that of a translucent spirit wandering the streets of the human world before it would break into the transformation of a hollow. A blade could touch none with no physical body; anyone with such a zanpakutou would be half-considered a taboo, the other half being the benefit of doubt where the abilities of one's zanpakutou were concerned. These capabilities are one of the many things which shinigami had attempted and failed to advance further into determining what movements a blade could muster.

Without a doubt, Zabimaru was not born with the ability to attack a non-physical body. Renji muttered a string of curses under his hot breath, landing on his feet and retracting his blade back into its original position. So long as those two were still in there, in that abominable creature which was definitely not the white-haired taichou's zanpakutou spirit since it was bent on destroying its master this much, he and Matsumoto could forget about leaving the place alive. Help would be nice, yes, but it would be nice only to a certain extent. 'Tsk'ing, he began to think of more plans but came up with none. Firstly, he knew of no one who could strike a non-physical matter. Everyone he knew - from Ikkaku to his own captain - all dealt with enemies that held physical mass.

A binding spell, in this case, would do no good. Sure, it might hold the dragon in its place for a split second or two, but Ichigo's and Hitsugaya-taichou's well-being must be considered beforehand. Should the icy being break out of the binds, or allow the bakudou to pass through it as if it were nothing and enclose the innocent parties instead, there would be no telling how much it would be able to injure the two inside its body. For all they knew, it might be using the captain-class shinigami as its own power source, which would vaguely explain the haunting similarity to Hyourinmaru when Hitsugaya-taichou uses shikai.

He couldn't risk resorting to bankai. Not only would it bring down the entire house, but also tire himself out. _"Shit,"_ he thought aloud, picking at the dried blood at his chin. "Is there really...no other fucking way to get to them!?"

_"Unare, Haineko!!"_

Instinctively, Renji turned around, watching the trembling blade in Matsumoto's hands dissolve into ash and zip through the air at lightning speed. He ducked at the slightest of moments where a bit of the ash nearly cut his cheek, realising by then that his drinking partner was pissed beyond all describing of her reflux of feelings her heart was hurdling over at that point of time. He heard her feet dragging along the ice, chipping some off as she took each step towards him heavily. Her right arm fell by her side, numb, but her grip on the crimson hilt of her zanpakutou was as tight as ever. He hadn't noticed that her coughing fits and little bleeding stopped in the midst of his short-lived fight against the intangible creature, and caught the sleeve of her shihakushou before she could collapse on her knees, with whatever remained of her katana slipping out of her hand.

She looked up at him with grateful eyes and a somewhat forced smile before she bent down to pick her zanpakutou up. Flicking the petite ice particles off the guard, she motioned to Renji with a wave of her shivering hand, telling him directly in the face to look at the masterpiece she and her dear, lazy pet cat created. With a cringe of slight disbelief, he eyed the dragon before them. True enough, it no longer seemed as solid as before; just as it split apart to make way for his blade to swipe past and cut nothing, the piercing movements of the smoke-like ash was enough a threat for it to completely spill apart into mist, entangling itself with the spirals of ashy grey.

Sparks flew upon the different-coloured wisps' contact with each other, Haineko surprisingly putting up a fight against the dragon illusion's mist. Shades of grey coated the translucent, pearl white, a hiss emanating from the dying fire potent and the smoke, which was of a much paler shade of Haineko's ash, rising to the ceiling before fading away. However, the battle between the spirals was long from over; the presence of the dragon could still be felt, its reiatsu still strong. The mist which was resisting the ash and creeping amongst the edges was enough proof of it, and as much as both lieutenants hated to admit it, if Matsumoto were to leave her zanpakutou alone like that for any longer, the four shinigami were going to be more than just a power source for the fake Hyourinmaru.

The only female present grabbed hold of Renji's sleeve. "This is your chance." When he raised a ruby red eyebrow at her, she sighed while her grip on both the sleeve and the hilt tightened. "I called Haineko out because I know the monster will get distracted by fighting her off. It seems to me that whatever it is, it doesn't want anyone to bother taichou and Ichigo-kun. But now that it's busy fighting Haineko, it'll..."

"...Ah. I understand."

Mentally willing for Zabimaru to return to its sealed state, the red-haired pineapple re-sheathed his blade and slowly, but truly, stepped up towards what remained of the beast and stared at the struggling spirals for a few moments. Turning away, he made a small roundabout around them, stealing a glance at the subconscious captain-class shinigami lying on wet ground. Ichigo had done an excellent job of protecting the shorter party, Renji deduced, by how he had been holding the taichou so close to him even whilst fighting against the monstrosity and kept enclosed inside the body of that thing as well, and now, at the brink of fading to blackness, the orange-haired strawberry still refused to let go of the thin, lithe figure and kept holding onto the torn kimono, of which the material screamed 'Junrinan cloth' all over.

He couldn't bear to take another look at how ripped apart the clothes were. It only made him see the youngest and most fragile of him with Rukia in each other's arms when they had their first encounter and leapt over afterlife's hurdles for survival in the harsh district of Inuzuri.

Somehow, that illogical thinking of his got him wondering how in the world he was going to be able to carry both of them and escape the damned home which was about to be buried under the ice the white-haired taichou created. Wiping the crimson liquid dripping off his lips, Renji sighed, quickly bending down to pick up the load - almost wheezing and giving way to his buckling knees as he did so - before leaping out of the way when the drifting ash and mist suddenly hurled themselves in his direction.

He made a little tumble, rolling across the frosted floor and wound up with the unconscious pair of spike-heads sprawled over his already tight chest, causing his cheeks to flush as they puffed up. It wasn't until Matsumoto offered to piggy-back her taichou - and muttered something about never relying on _men_ ever again under her breath - and attempted to drag Ichigo off did Renji manage to inhale and exhale deeply, but it didn't stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks. Something told him - instinct, perhaps - that his blond colleague was prepared to leave her zanpakutou behind fighting the strange, misty manifestation of a pure monster, which entrapped two captain-class shinigami so easily, and make a quick shunpo trip back to Seireitei and get help. He wasn't entirely sure of what he could do to help, though, seeing that it was, after all, only logical if the wielder would stay and conduct her own zanpakutou's movements rather than leave it completely alone with a mist-dragon and a redhead who held no control over another's zanpakutou whatsoever. It was, by far, impossible for any shinigami to accomplish, the traitor Tousen Kaname being a special case.

Obviously, Abarai hated how most of his gut feelings normally came true. Without saying as much as another word, the strawberry blonde tossed him a glance before disappearing totally from sight. Turning back, amber orbs observed as the translucent wisp of chilled air reach out as if it had arms, only to get itself shrouded by more ash.

So many decades he had served as a loyal soldier to Soul Society and obeyed its laws, with Rukia's execution and a few other trivial - in his eyes, they were trivial - matters which he didn't want to speak of as exceptions, and from his experience after promotion and promotion, he knew at one glance that if his colleague wasn't going to return soon, he was going to go down with the house. The red-haired fukutaichou bit the corner of his lips, careful about the trickling blood which softened the peeled skin; the house wasn't going to last another ten minutes, he roughly estimated. The other unfortunate thing, was that by that time, he, too, would not last.

It was there and then did he realise that there was no escape.

But he still didn't think the worst of the blonde for leaving him behind and taking Ichigo and Hitsugaya-taichou with her. Still, Abarai Renji simply couldn't shrug off this naggy feeling clutching at his chest as broken wood chipped off the roof and sawdust sprinkle on his crimson hair. He could only hope, as he licked the metallic fluid off his lips, for the blonde to quickly arrive with help, and watched as the two spirals tore the house down.

* * *

_The sun went, and it never came back. All that was left hanging in the middle of the pale, blue sky had been a chalky white marble; a marble so fragile, shaking so vigorously, translucent for all to see. Admire my beauty, it said, admire the beauty of my existence. For if you don't, you will regret, it continued to whisper, its voice silently carried along by the blizzard winds. For if you don't, you will regret._

_And regret had long taken hold of his soul, delving deep into his inner thoughts and digging through his mind as if it were mud. He could feel his physical body wrapping around itself with icy, trembling arms turning pallid blue, and yet he could not feel anything. At first, he imaged it to be the after-effect of hanging around in the snowstorm for too long; the snow dangerously descending from the never-ending blanket stretching across the horizon, dashing towards his small, tiny frame and embracing him, sheltering him from the thickening atmosphere surrounding him. He hadn't a clue of what was happening which turned his element - the snow and ice - against him in this strange, obscure manner, but he figured that it wasn't the time to think about that._

_A figure came skipping across the snow. Footprints didn't follow it, but the shaken child did. His hair of absolute pure white brushed against his forehead, the small wisp of hair trailing along with the everlasting zephyr of precarious coldness; the cool, grass-like emeralds glistened in the dense fog between him and the pouncing child, possibly younger than him, giggling as they danced across the frozen tundra and skated past all of the ice figurines of which he had no impression of. Who had put them there?_

_One of the figurines, crowned with the majestic symbolism of an eagle with its wings spread high and wide, drew him nearer to it. Though it was but a mere statue made of completely thick ice, carved with such careful movements and exquisite workmanship, just like all the others lined in a vertical row beside it, the curious child somehow knew, in his entangled heart, that there was something else about the eagle which set it apart from the rest. Something different, something unique._

_Without realising it, his hand reached out and grabbed hold of the edge of the right wing. The other child in this world, who used to be laughing heartily as they moved flexibly along with the movements of the snow, had stopped dead in their tracks; Hitsugaya could only make out the blazing orbs of undeniably deep, sapphire hue widening as they stared straight at him - whether it was at him or through him, he didn't want to know - before the shadow leapt from across the ice field, rushing towards him in his direction. He knew they were yelling, warning him to get away from the lifeless monument, but he didn't. He couldn't. And in the next flash, he caught a glimpse of exactly where the wing was pointing at._

_It was the tower. The tower he ventured into only a moment ago. The tower he escaped death from.__The tower he regarded as frozen hell._

_It was that tower._

* * *

"So how is he?"

Noting the sudden but familiar voice cutting in at the whispering conversation between those present in the room, a pair of amethysts stared up, wide, at the thoroughly bandaged adolescent of muscular build, only to soften when the blazing orbs of hazelnut brown turned their attention to the raven-haired healer loyally kneeling beside the bed, her hand exactly twelve centimetres above the exposed but bandaged chest. Rukia bit her lower lip, giving a light shake of her head, but it went unnoticed; despite that, she stood, silently, just a metre or two from the Fourth Division Captain, but her heart filled with dread and anxiety had its heavy burden lifted slightly at the moment a dim ray of light from the outside world dawn upon the room.

He closed the door behind him, lips unmoving as he edged towards the patient lying on the plain, hospital bed in a room which smelled distinctively of medicated oil. No more of that dim light reflected in Rukia's eyes anymore, but she had long left her head hanging, arms behind her back and fingers fiddling with each other. A scowl plastered severely on his angular face, Ichigo glowered at the deathly pale body lying as straight as a bamboo pole on water. If there were a current, the shinigami daikou prayed, please let it flow on.

The cripple was just about to settle down on an available stool with his good hand when the faint glow of healing reiryoku faded into the darkness of the room. He leapt up from his half-squat, but a warm hand gently massaged his shoulder, coaxing him back into his seat. Unohana - when did she get there? - frowned, her brows tightly knitted as her cracked lips parted way, her quick reflexes in swiping the crimson liquid of the corners of her mouth under everyone's eyes gone forgotten by an orange-haired shinigami when her soft, delicate voice forced out, "It's getting worse."

An eyebrow twitched, but nothing more could be gotten from the teen. "...What is?"

"Hitsugaya-taichou. He's getting worse. He may not be able to make it."

"And what do you mean by that?" Ichigo muttered with a strained force, restraining himself from jumping onto the female doctor and gripping onto her shoulders, shaking her till she foamed just to get a more detailed answer. He didn't give a bloody damn if he wouldn't be able to understand the medical terms in Soul Society; his basic knowledge of first aid should be more than enough to make up for it. Instead, his fingers curled into a clenched fist. A fist so firmly held together, the other female shinigami in the room on the brink of letting her anxiety out into a broken sob was rubbing her eyes when a smooth, single trail of blood oozed from the hidden palm; she could only look away, and do nothing. "What do you mean, he's not going to make it? What do you mean, just what the bloody hell do you mean? Why!? It's been four freakin' days, and now you tell me he won't make it? What the fuck is that!?"

"Ichigo…"

Rukia could only whisper his name.

Deep, charcoal black eyes hardened and narrowed slightly, brows still furrowed as Unohana, disposing of her motherly self, turned her back onto to the trembling substitute shinigami, her voice still as low as before. "Hitsugaya-taichou's condition has taken for the worse. I suppose you have already noticed, by now, the constant fluctuation in his reiatsu. If you have yet to, I shall try in my capacity as his doctor to explain matters to you. Now, listen closely, Kurosaki-san, Kuchiki-san."

Her footsteps resonating in the four-walled room, she moved to the opposite side of the bed again, just as flawlessly as she performed her shunpo in the dark earlier on. Her hand was raised above the unconscious Hitsugaya's chest once more, her eyes flashing with the glow of healing reiryoku stemmed from her palm as she noticed a thin scarlet line illustrating itself across the bandages.

"I have been monitoring Hitsugaya-taichou's progress over his resting period. During this time, a group of medics as well as myself looked through the medical archives of the Soul Society library, but we have found nothing in the records which showed a shinigami displaying such dangerous fluctuation." At the word 'dangerous', Unohana's brows subconsciously carved much deeper onto her complexion. "However, from the symptoms Hitsugaya-taichou has been showing, they tally with a few of our hypotheses. It is still unsafe to reveal what our findings are at the moment and Yamamoto-soutaichou has given me a special order not to speak of this matter until tomorrow night, but there is something that Kurosaki-san has to know..."

Rukia, stiffening, bowed and excused herself out of the room. Ichigo watched her from the corner of his eyes and did nothing else, but watched Unohana carry on with her healing process. He simply watched, and watched, while Toushirou was breathing; suffocating. Even under the facade of an angelic baby face, snow white brows in a straight line as he wheezed in his unconsciousness...

"Kurosaki-san," the head doctor breathed; he looked, and saw the beads of sweat trickling off by her temples continuously. Her lips were cracking again, and somehow, so were his. "Tomorrow is the day Hitsugaya-taichou officially retires from his ranks. If he doesn't wake up by then, we will have to carry out our backup plan. I would like you to understand why we have decided to do this, and why," she paused, glancing up to stare into the depth of his eyes as if searching for an unseen answer lost in a sea of questions, before she halted her healing once more, covering the chibi taichou's chest with the blanket after tidying his attire, and folded her fingers, interlocking them with each other as she spoke, voice barely above that of a pin dropping onto the ground.

"And why I was the only one who disagreed into letting him stay in Soul Society."

* * *

_It was that tower, that very tower, which shook like the trees in a hurricane, stumbled like a child over a toy, toppled like a building in an earthquake, crumbled like a fragile cookie upon human touch, extinguishing like a flicker of a candlelight, into the deeper darkness and of that beyond the borders where a fatal enigma lurked for its victim, its claws sharpened against the ice and perfected to skin any being alive, ready to sink into the flesh and dig out the bones and muscles, hoping to slurp the blood of its prey until it was satisfied with its catch of the day, and toss the body aside as if it were trash right from the beginning, along with the heap of bodies there, their heads shaved and lips parted away in mid-scream with some bent or fractured knees here and there, like they were kneeling, pleading, practically begging for mercy from a lone, ice tower of no more than two storeys high with a sealed door and heavily guarded area; their screams resonated, but they did not reach his ears; their cries echoed, but he could not hear them; but he could imagine it, how the people before him had sunken into the temptations to break the seal upon the door to peer deep inside to savour their lethal curiosity, but ended up shrieking, preyed on, caught, tortured, scarred, burnt alive, __**killed**__--_

_He was back at the tower._

_He was back at the door of death._

_He was back at the frozen hell._

_And now, it was his turn._


	5. Drifting Clouds

_...It may seem a whole lot like Fade to Black much later into the story, but I swear, it's just a coincidence. As for Hitsu-chan's newly shown ability in the manga...um, it was a bit hard to find a slot to insert it in, but I guess you should be able to pick up where I've put it? -sweat drop- __And this chapter is a little short (it's sort of meant to be mid-filler with mid-canon), I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for a four-month delay... o.O And I'm sorry again for re-updating, I posted the chapters in the wrong order. Seriously, how much worse can I get now...?_

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 04**

**Drifting Clouds**

* * *

An empty hand reached up to the heavens, grabbing for the nearest cloud in sight. Repeatedly the fist opened and clenched, opened and clenched, calmly and silently picking on the whitest of the clouds in the sky to hold on.

The hand remained empty.

Still, the man did not give in. He held out his arm, even further than before, and settled for the wind breezing into his palm. As if he had caught the moon, a smirk playfully reached the corners of his mouth revealing his dark, muddy teeth. He brought his clenched fist down, opened it, and blew forcefully into the palm. Another smirk of satisfaction. He reached out again.

Zaraki Kenpachi decided that, on a quiet and peaceful day such as this, it was best to settle down and toy with the sky a bit.

* * *

"...You say you were the only one who was against letting Toushirou stay here?"

Quietly, Unohana nodded, her fingers tenderly interlocking each other as she half-concentrated on mumbling out a healing kidou - to keep Hitsugaya's reiatsu confined to the room, as well as lighten the atmosphere a bit - before she walked over towards the bed. As soon as Ichigo was about to move his lips and ask why, the raven-haired healer stopped him by performing the same healing kidou - for about the sixth time since she entered, he noticed - on the semi-conscious taichou lying on the white bed cloth. Once she was done, she swiftly wrapped the lithe frame with the bed linen, tidily set the bed with a freshly washed bed cloth, and set the half-shivering, half-unconscious snow prince down on the bed. Upon completing the seemingly simple task, the doctor kept her hands in front of her and forced a smile.

"Yes...and why the concern over that matter?" she politely asked, smile getting slightly wider.

Ichigo took no note of that, stepping towards her. "Why," he began, kicking the stool aside. "did you do that?" Knowing he would get no good answer, Ichigo moved closer, being careful of his own reiatsu as he tried to rein in his uncontrollable anger. He hadn't the slightest clue why he was exceptionally fired up over this, but all reasons his brain could think on the spot came rushing out of his mouth like a motor. "It's dangerous to keep Toushirou in Seireitei, that I can understand. But once he retires, where the hell can he go if he can't stay in Soul Society? I mean, sure, his reiatsu could kill someone out there but couldn't you always send someone to keep an eye on him or something? Like when the situation goes out of whack, someone could just help him on the spot without him accidentally killing someone!

"And just think. Other than Soul Society, where else can Toushirou go to? He definitely can't send himself to Aizen's door in Hueco Mundo and beg the bastard to let him stay just because he isn't allowed to stay in Soul Society! And he definitely can't come home with me, that killer reiatsu of his could keep reeling in the hollows. Not that I'm complaining, but seriously, wouldn't _you_ feel bad if the town is infested with hollows and you know your fluctuating reiatsu is the root of it? I won't let Toushirou feel bad about himself. Besides, it's not always fine and dandy to send a shinigami all the way from Soul Society to my town just to keep an eye on a retired shinigami. Don't you agree, Unohana-san? Where else can Toushirou go to if he's not allowed to stay here? This is the place he grew up in. This is his home. Soul Society can't exile a retiree from his own home just because of some stupid reiatsu flux."

Unohana's smile died as soon as it came. "Kurosaki-san, while you are right in your reasoning, I have my own reasons as the head doctor of the Gotei 13 to disagree with you and the other captains." With this, she gave another kind, motherly smile which seemed more real than fictional. "I must add, though, your reasons coincide with most of the other taichous."

"Oh, uh, really?" The thought of his style of reasoning coinciding with Byakuya, Kurotsuchi, and even Zaraki made him feel.....

_Shudder._

"That's...pretty nice to know, I guess."

The smile faded once more. "Well...to start, I have to stress that Hitsugaya-taichou's fluctuating reiatsu is no ordinary fluctuation which the Fourth Division has seen and dealt with. If I have to choose more accurate words to describe it, I'm afraid I can't think of any at the moment. However, what I can confirm is that the fluctuation mostly occurs when Hitsugaya-taichou is asleep or unconscious, with the latter giving more perilous results. You _have_ witnessed it for yourself, haven't you, Kurosaki-san?"

"Witnessed? What do you me-?" Stunned, hazelnut eyes widened once the words sank in, the vivid memories clouding his sight and mind.

* * *

_"Damn, of all times Toushirou just had to go and faint on me like this..."_

_Huffing as he stomped his way up the steps leading into the empty wooden hut, Ichigo laid the unconscious white-haired Junrinan taichou onto his navy blue futon, neatly tucking him in like a father would his child - though both parties would highly resent that - before grumbling and scratching the back of his neck, picking at a strand of his bright, orange spikes of hair. Sighing heavily, the substitute shinigami knelt on one knee and leaned over the sleeping face, bringing a bulky hand onto the forehead. It was Searing, with a capital s. No joke about the former captain's condition there; if he were to take part in any battle like that, he would simply keel over instead of being able to take down the enemy._

_Fidgeting, Ichigo removed his hand and rushed into the kitchen, his every step landing with a bang and thud. He hustled the nearest rag he could spot, ripping it to as many shreds as possible. He quickly tossed them into a bucket, finding some spare ice and messily dumping any water found in the disorganised cooking spot into the same bucket. While the orange head wasn't exactly that much of a neat person himself, at least the rag was still completely soaked in ice water, which was just what he needed for the moment._

_However, his first step back into the room was his first step into a frozen abyss._

_"The hell--I wasn't even gone for a good ten minutes and this place already looks just like the ice skating rink right across the neighbourhood!" Ichigo gritted his teeth, scowling. Biting the lower of his lip with a vein popping, he slid across to Hitsugaya, who was quietly unconscious and trapped beneath his frozen futon, and let the bucket fall onto the ice floor with a crack. He folded his arms, still biting onto the skin peeling off his lips._

_It wasn't until the snow prince began to tremble did he bother reconsidering using the ice to bring down that hellish fever._

_On the brink of panicking - really, panicking over a damn stubborn fever which wasn't willing to back down after all that frozen air in the room - the orange-haired shinigami tossed all contents of the bucket on the ground and brought down the container onto the ice vessel Hitsugaya was trapped in. There wasn't so much as a crack till the beads of sweat turned to ice and the blood from his lower lip midway dripping onto the futon. Snarling, Ichigo eventually gave up using the wooden bucket. He swiftly grabbed onto the hilt of Zangetsu, bringing his reiatsu to its tip. Dangerously high reiatsu boiled from the edges of the zanpakutou, emitting sky blue smoke and a glaring, ice blue sheen._

_Getsuga Tenshou successfully made a break through the ice. The proud wielder proceeded to chipping the ice off by chunks, sticking the blade underneath the crack whilst making sure he wasn't piercing through the taichou's skin himself, and, like a lever, pulled the hilt down by the cloth. Just as he was doing so, a towering shadow casted upon the wall, lording over the oblivious shinigami who was desperately attempting to save a friend from himself._

_A wailing roar was all he could recall since then._

* * *

As if that very roar shook him awake from his stream of flashbacks, the present Ichigo quickly shook it out of his head, blinking furiously. "...So, that happened when--"

"When Hitsugaya-taichou was unconscious, as you said." After which, Unohana rolled up the supposedly soiled bed covers into a folded towel, letting it droop over her folded arms. "My team and I are doing surveillance duty for him, in the case such an incident were to happen again. We have yet to find out why this occurs only when Hitsugaya-taichou blacks out, but before we can figure that out, it is our job to ensure that his reiatsu doesn't go out of control. By using this spiritual barrier here," she halted in her explanation to touch the bed foot, where an emerald green glow followed. Ichigo's eyes widened, suddenly understanding what the doctor had been doing all this while by making so many frequent trips to and fro and such. "we can keep his fluctuating reiatsu limited to this area, but we can unfortunately only do so much for him as his healers."

"In other words, he's...?"

"Unfortunately, it is what you think it is. Hitsugaya-taichou can no longer maintain his control over his own power, let alone his zanpakutou, at the moment. This is my deduction so far, but I'm not basing it without evidence." As if to end her little note, Unohana swiftly yet silently stepped past the stiffened substitute shinigami before he could turn around and probe any further. "We'll be keeping a close eye on his condition, so don't worry."

Ichigo nodded in understanding, despite having so much to ask, but he realised that the very moment his lips parted he could not find the correct phrasing to his words and all that transpired had been the white puff escaping his mouth. His eyes, unwavering, continued to watch as the back of the raven-haired doctor sink deeper into the shadows of the hallway, until even a white speck of her haori could not be spotted any longer.

Chewing the skin off his lower lip, the orange-haired youth closed the door behind him with a bang, quietly turned to the nearest wall for support before the clenched fist was allowed to invade it.

* * *

"'ah? Kid ain't doing any better?"

"Well, yeah, or so I heard from some Fourth Div guy," Ikkaku murmured, pouring more sake into the tiny porcelain bowl resting on his palm. "Said he prob'ly won't be able to resume his duties as captain for quite some time. Or something like that."

"...Damn," the scarred man spat, kicking back and stretching his right leg out into the sky. It rested on his left thigh just as the bells on the spikes of his charcoal hair chimed. "Won't be fun without him, that's for sure. Never talked to the kid that much, but it's all too easy to tell that he would at least be someone worth my time to pick a fight with."

Sitting in a far corner away, the infamous narcissist of the Eleventh Division sighed to himself and flipped to the next page of the novel he was reading. Ikkaku was simply mumbling under his breath about something along the lines of Yumichika becoming more of a bookworm and spending too much time reading those 'how to perfect your inner beauty' books lately. He couldn't blame his friend for it, though, since the fifth seat was getting extremely bored from being left behind all the time. Why, just the other day, his captain and best friend totally ditched him just to have a random killing down the Rukongai streets. They innocently claimed that they couldn't find him, but he was resting up in his room, as usual. Surely Ikkaku had memorised his daily schedule?

Yumichika could only sigh to himself again, this time audible enough for the sleeping taichou to hear. "Oi, Yumichika. Get your ass off that book of yours and come see the sky with us."

If his life had been a manga series, question marks popping in all angles of his head would be beautifully illustrated. "Taichou, I do understand that there hasn't been anything serious lately, but I never knew you had the habit of admiring nature's beauty."

Zaraki could only raise an eyebrow and bluntly ask, "What're you getting all philosophical for? I never knew you had the habit of having fun with books either, so just get over here, dammit. Ain't no fun with Ikkaku around."

"Gee, I'm so grateful, taichou."

"Shuddup, Ikkaku. And pour me another bowl of sake, I wanna drink while the sky turns blood red." He threw his head back and laughed, while the pink ball sleeping in a cat position giggled in her sleep. "That'll be some pretty sight and you won't wanna miss it, Yumichika."

Pouting slightly, the narcissist strode over and sat down beside the servant of the Eleventh Division captain, offering to help but was discreetly declined anyway. "Taichou, I don't see any beauty in watching the sunset. It happens everyday."

"That ain't what I mean, Yumichika, that ain't what I mean."

A playful, bloodthirsty smirk found its way up the man's face, while the seated officers could only gulp and wonder what had made their taichou so excited. In the midst of their awkward moment together, a cloud of crimson red drifted by, escaping the grasp - and the eye - of the crazy fighter.


	6. Falling Stars

**Bereft of Hope 05**

**Falling Stars**

* * *

"...Yo, Rangiku-san."

Matsumoto tilted her head to her right, narrowing her eyes to slits as the door opened and drew light into her dim room. The largely built shadow, which stood at the entrance, thankfully served as her only protection from the bright rays. "Ichigo-kun...?"

"Yeah, it's me." His tone sounded as if he were concerned about her condition, but at the same time, it sounded as if he was troubled.

Ichigo closed the door behind him, which the blonde lying on the bed was extremely grateful for, and sat down on the chair provided quietly. Both remained silent for most of the time, with the exception of the adolescent calmly asking after her well-being and the seemingly haggard woman replied as sluggishly as she appeared, but the other party didn't mind, and that was when the silence began. However, neither found its presence uncomfortable.

Contrary to what most of the Tenth Division shinigami believed, their lieutenant had no knowledge about their soon-to-be-former captain's present condition - she had asked some of the Fourth Division members attending to her, but they didn't seem to be willing to reply and Matsumoto was in no condition to be asking further, so she let it slide - and was, in fact, not in the mood to know any longer. She had been curious, yes, but that cat-like curiosity had worn off as soon as it surfaced. Even after looking at the various expressions the healers gave each other, Matsumoto no longer wanted to care about it. She knew, and understood, that even if she did know about Hitsugaya's condition, she could not render much, or any, aid at all. She had tried, and failed, in the previous months of looking after him, and came to the conclusion that the best method of showing that she cared was to express no concern in the least bit.

So when Ichigo had dropped by, after learning that the Tenth Division fukutaichou had landed herself in a condition no better than Renji's, Matsumoto did not ask about her captain, despite knowing that the substitute shinigami sitting beside her had already been told about the situation.

A silent half hour ticked by, but they did not find it wasted.

Rangiku-san needs some quiet time to herself, Ichigo decided. _As Hanatarou said, Rangiku-san doesn't know anything about what'll happen to Toushirou. Knowing Rangiku-san, she probably has already asked everyone she could and got nothing. She ain't interested to know anymore. Even if I break it to her, she won't give a bloody damn; she knows I know, and I know she's got the right to know, but even if she knows, she can't do anything. At this point of time, I'm the only one who can do something, 'cuz I'm the one Unohana-san decided to tell._

He was right.

* * *

In the end, Ichigo told no one. He couldn't.

His stay in Soul Society lasted longer than he predicted, so when Ishida dropped by Soul Society - he was dared to, in an amusing round of Truth or Dare, since he decided that not taking up challenges would sully his pride as a Quincy, something Inoue liked to abuse nowadays - to criticise the orange-haired shinigami for it, Ishida was, in turn, requested to stay behind. It wasn't made by Ichigo himself, but Abarai.

The Quincy did not enjoy wasting time and as a result, he made the most out of his visit to Soul Society, which he viewed pointless and meaningless, and went to the Fourth Division to have a talk with its leader - it was something about the materials for bandages and certain first aid skills - but passed by the red pineapple's room without realising it. Upon hearing about the white-haired kid, whom he had spotted several months ago, Ishida attempted to get away quickly with the best excuse he could come up with and fulfill his purpose in coming here. He had no intention of knowing more about the shinigami affairs, for he believed they should be kept to the shinigami themselves, since Quincies had their own matters to deal with. (If he needed to be frank with a shinigami he wasn't familiar with, Ishida wanted to bluntly tell Renji that he detested the shinigami, but decided not to since he was practically in a land bursting with them and he did not wish to waste time explaining why he was in Seireitei. And also, this was their hospital. Ishida had no desire to pick a fight in a hospital.)

The bandaged Renji pointed an irritatingly accusing finger at him, the high school student recalled, and he seemed rather...frustrated. Agitated could be more suitable, however. Nonetheless, Renji became frustrated. "Then why the _hell_ do you always help Ichigo out when he needs it?" he asked challengingly.

Ishida gave no answer, he recalled. He saw no need to.

The redhead gave a reluctant sigh as his thick fingers picked at the bandages wrapped tightly around his arms - the bespectacled Quincy could've sworn he saw a pile of disgustingly stained cloth beside the bed - and tried to let his blood chill. "Okay, _fine_. Be that way. All I'm gonna tell you is, something's happened to one of our captains and Ichigo has to stay behind to help him out. Like it or not, Hitsugaya-taichou's gonna be leaving Seireitei for Karakura Town a week from now. I don't know what's going on exactly, but Hitsugaya-taichou's not in any condition to stay in Soul Society any longer. If you're here for Ichigo, you'll either have to beat it or wait for a week. If you're here for Unohana-taichou, you'll either have to try not to die or permanently remain here as a shinigami."

Ishida decided not to see the head doctor for the moment.

* * *

Transcending into the first day of said week had not been easy for everyone, but they knew it had to be dealt with. There was always sweetness found in bitterness, after all; for what would life - or afterlife - be without that very principle?

That first day of the week had been a rainy Tuesday. It wasn't exactly the season for the blessings of the rain, but the shinigami welcomed it nonetheless. They much preferred being soaked to the skin to being roasted by the sun. Ichigo, however, had a different view about it. He disliked having the droplets soak him. They reminded him of how he held onto his mother's bloodied body weeping to the point whereby he couldn't tell if the water streaming down his face was the rain or his tears. He could remember the scent of blood instead of her usual jasmine and the incredibly soapy feeling of the crimson fluid in his tiny palms. By simply being in the rain made the orange-haired shinigami remember, and he didn't enjoy that memory.

It did not help when he went to visit the white-haired captain who would soon be retiring. Looking at the shorter shinigami lie so still made the memory for Ichigo harder to bear. He realised, then, that no matter how much effort his comrades had put in - Rukia, Renji, even _Byakuya_, with his experience with Hisana - Ichigo could not let go. He no longer blamed himself for the accident - it took him a year to accept that it had been an accident and not an incident - but it could never take away the pain. Losing his mother was akin to losing a piece of his heart and no operation could help replenish it. Ichigo believed that it would be the same with Rangiku, as well as the other shinigami who were closely associated with the taichou.

Without a doubt, they would feel the remorse for having Toushirou leave them like that. It might not be death that would take him away, but regardless he could never return to Soul Society. Even if he could, it wouldn't be for at least a few decades - Unohana made it absolutely clear that the taichou was not in any condition to return to Seireitei until he completely recovered, and a complete recovery would take at least half a century - and to add insult to injury, no one from Seireitei would be given permission to contact Hitsugaya and vice versa. He was to break off all forms of communication with Seireitei and Seireitei was expected to do the same.

Ichigo sighed as he turned and left. It was never easy having a 'first'.

* * *

The subsequent two days weren't as bad to handle, but were still intolerable.

Matsumoto was discharged from the Fourth Division on a sunny Wednesday but Renji had to be kept for one more day. According to Unohana, he suffered more injuries than the blonde did in the battle, the memories of which felt uncomfortably distant for both parties. It was as if they had experienced a similar dream and the moment they awoke from the dream, they found themselves in the comforting beds of the Fourth. It was as if they had come into contact with the forbidden and were being punished for it. Subsequently, both of them could sense that the memories of the battle were fading, yet the injuries remained as proof that it existed.

With the Tenth Division's fukutaichou discharged, the Tenth Division was fully operational. Matsumoto worked harder than anyone else had seen and word got out that she had been abstaining from alcohol so as to remain sober for as long as she could take.

On Thursday, she visited her captain, who remained unconscious throughout her visit there. She was spotted smiling, however, as she silently removed his bandages and wiped his unusually warm arms with cold water. Like her, who had a horrible gash across her gut, Hitsugaya had gained his first true scar. Matsumoto recalled how her captain always failed to retain any form of battle scars, despite being famous for fighting intensely and receiving equally intense injuries, but this was an exception. It was something new she observed, a discovery about her direct superior which would be the last discovery she could ever find about him.

As the towering female held out Hitsugaya's scarred right arm and brushed the cold towel against it, a tear fell from one of her bluish silver eyes and landed onto his open palm, but that was all from her. Matsumoto kept her dry smile as she proceeded to wipe his other arm, failing to notice the change in the surrounding reiatsu. From the door, Ichigo was watching her.

* * *

Friday became the best day of the week.

"Mornin'!" A glaringly orange head stuck out from the door, his grin even more jarringly so. "Heard the news! Looks like it won't be long before you can get outta here, Toushirou."

"It's still Hitsugaya-taichou to you, airhead. I'm not allowing anyone to be dropping honorifics yet, if you even knew what they are in the first place."

Ichigo merely shrugged back and sat next to a smiling Rangiku. It happened when no one was around in the room, she could recall, except for the Fourth Division shinigami team who was placed in charge of taking care of him. His wounds were still not recovering properly, leading to Hanatarou deciding to use Hisagomaru to hasten the recovery process but before he could even unsheathe his zanpakutou, the reiatsu level in the room became extremely unstable. With a terrifying explosion of ice, as the timid and docile Seventh Seat described it, the team helplessly watched the barrier shatter and when the mist cleared, they found the young captain sitting up, panting, his eyes wide as dishes, but they were glad enough he was awake.

Strangely enough, it hadn't been the lieutenant of the Tenth who heard the news first. She was sleeping off the migraine the paperwork gave her in the office, a place no one thought she would be in at the late hour. Hanatarou had panicked when he couldn't find her in her own barracks, leading to him scampering around the division grounds and accidentally tripped into the territory of the Tenth's rowdy neighbours who had been drinking late into the night. His rolling about and equipment scattering over the sandy ground caught the attention of the only sober and conscious shinigami of the batch, who slid the door open to find the Seventh Seat anxiously tidying everything up. Needless to say, Ayasegawa Yumichika demanded to know why a member from the Fourth Division was trying to ruin a beautiful moment.

Matsumoto was stunned beyond belief, initially, when the Eleventh's Fifth Seat woke her up in the middle of the night to inform her, but she broke into uncontrollable laughter when she finally realised that due to Hana's carelessness, Ikkaku had been shocked awake and he flung his sake at his friend sitting across him. Yumichika left the office in a fume, of course, but it didn't stop the blonde's laughter. She could not get the image of his hair dangling in front of his face, dripping with sake, out of her mind.

The moment she calmed down, she sent a Hell Butterfly to locate and inform Ichigo about it before she made her way to the Fourth Division. She was welcomed by a tuft of white hair resting against the pillow and a pair of teal eyes staring back at her. She smiled to herself then.

"Good morning, Hitsugaya-taichou. Matsumoto-fukutaichou. Ichigo-kun." Unohana entered the room, smiling. It might have been because of the atmosphere, but in Ichigo's eyes, her smile was seemingly more radiant than ever. "I hope I am not intruding."

"No, of course not, Unohana-taichou," Hitsugaya replied politely. "I assume you are here to conduct another check-up?"

"Yes," she nodded as she spoke. "If you're all clear, I may allow you to return to your barracks tomorrow, so try not to do anything detrimental to your condition in the meantime, all right?"

He sighed softly but nodded in acknowledgement. Like any patient would do under Unohana's care - Unohana's, especially - Hitsugaya co-operated with her fully and listened to her instructions as she conducted the check-up. He could feel Kurosaki's intense stare and Matsumoto's concerned gaze upon him, though, and it uneased him somewhat.

Remembering about his recent dreams didn't help at all, either. He had been told he was unconscious for four to five long days but for some incomprehensible reason, it seemed much shorter than that for him. His last memory before his forced transcension into those strange dreams had been of walking together with Kurosaki in the nearby market. He was trying to rebuke the taller, but blacked out before he could say much. That was when the string of mysterious events occurred. He knew he saw a tower, that felt so distant yet so near, amongst many other things that made the experience much more unsettling. The icy air had been so thick with vapour it felt as if it formed arms and forced itself down his throat, filling his lungs with dread.

Hitsugaya had seen flashes, then. He couldn't differentiate them from the snow, but he knew he was fading in and out of consciousness even in his sleep. The tower disappeared and re-appeared repeatedly. The statues seemed to grow closer. Occasionally he heard the familiar roars of Hyourinmaru but they were distant. Far. Too far. The dragon's desperate cries were drowned in the gushing blizzards, but even then, Hitsugaya could remember hearing footsteps upon the snow. He was brought to his knees before the tower of ice, and his face fell flat upon the substance he once thought was soft and comforting, but that allowed him to detect someone trudging through the snow. When the sounds stopped, he looked up then, but all he could make out was a dark, towering figure and a cheshire grin so sinister and unexpected it made his palms sweat. Although he couldn't tell who it was, the posture and smirk were too familiar to be true. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was in a dream, he would've thought that-

"T-taichou, r-reiatsu...!"

Snapping back to the present, the young captain found himself gripping onto a frozen arm and Matsumoto slumped against the frosted wall, hands clamped around her chest. Unohana was brushing off some of the ice whilst setting up what seemed to be additional layers of barriers but her smile was gone, replaced by an unreadable frown. He turned back to the ice on the arm, and slowly stared up, feeling a horrid sense of déjà vu-

_He looked up then, but all he could make out was-_

He was tilting his head up, the shihakushou moving up vertically in his eyes, before he caught the scowl on the other's face. However, in closer inspection, Hitsugaya could almost feel that-

_-chesire grin so sinister and unexpected-_

He felt his grip on the arm tightening, though it was virtually impossible since his hands were trapped within the canister of ice together with the arm and it was already tight enough to begin with. He felt the circulation to his fingers grow sluggish, but he cared not for it at the moment.

_If it hadn't been for the fact that he was in a dream-_

Hitsugaya's eyes widened at the thought. He realised it, then. He wasn't. This was no dream. It was real. Matsumoto was really there, suffocating from the pressure of his reiatsu. Unohana was really there, setting up layers upon layers of the barrier to contain his untamed power. And Kurosaki - Kurosaki was really there, arm encased in the ice he created, with his free hand on his waist and his face turning from the earlier cheeky grin into a deep frown.

With sheer strength, Hitsugaya pulled his arms back, the ice shattering into pieces. They seemed to be falling at an extremely slow pace to him, with every facet of the ice reflecting Kurosaki back into his eyes. His numb fingers curled into fists, clenching onto the sheets of his bed. He breathed out slowly, a puff of white smoke trailing from his mouth.

"...It can't be..."

_-he would've thought that it was Kurosaki._

* * *

_...Decided to put this up despite what I mentioned in my profile, just to prove I'm not dead yet =P I hope you will take the time to check my profile, though. There's a little announcement about how I'm going about in writing this fic to make it worth the wait, in case you're interested. I also hope you may be able to forgive me for the oocness in this chapter; I haven't touched Bleach for a very long time since I decided to pick up the textbooks and drop the manga at the moment._

_This will be the last update from me till mid-November, due to the O levels. Until then, then. Keep yourselves healthy, readers. (I fell terribly ill from studying, so. Yeah.)_


	7. Waning Moon

**Bereft of Hope 06**

**Waning Moon**

* * *

Ichigo had put it as eloquently as possible: they did not bloody know what hit them.

Everything was great at first and it looked like it would stay that way. Toushirou was awake, his reiatsu seemed to be at a pretty normal level, Rangiku-san was smiling again - the atmosphere around the Fourth Division really brightened up since his admission and the carrot top was even glad to see the captain do so well despite what he went through. Unohana-san had come in to check on the little guy and she looked rather happy herself. The simple mentioning of Toushirou's possible discharge lifted the blond lieutenant's spirits, and that alone made Ichigo think, _'Wow, things might actually turn out better after all.'_

That was probably why he was literally sent flying off his feet when no more than five minutes later the spike in the reiatsu levels in the room could be felt by all of the occupants, with the exception of the one emitting such spiritual energy. Unohana-san was stunned motionless when it struck her at full blast, her hand hanging mid-way through unwrapping the soiled bandage around Toushirou's arm, but she quickly smashed the icicles slithering up her fingers the moment she noticed them and wordlessly proceeded on to set up the foundation of another barrier. The dangling end of the bandage was frozen in its place before it slowly chipped off, eating away the remaining cloth. Her coal black eyes narrowed slightly when they caught that, but her focus soon went back to the sigil she traced on the floor. She placed an open palm on the completed symbol and it glowed faintly, the pale green aura rising up to contain the reiatsu like a shield.

The shinigami daikou had turned his attention back to the oblivious taichou on the bed. He figured it was made of anti-reiatsu material, for the sheets were not covered in frost unlike the rest of the room, and was grateful for that as he dashed across thoughtlessly and tore some of the cloth-like material. While doing so, he caught sight of the fukutaichou, who was stepping back towards the wall and resting against it. She was panting, and he spotted some frozen sweat dotting her face but said nothing of it. Stopping Toushirou was the most important thing to do at that moment.

His grip on the torn sheet tightened as he watched the unaware white-haired patient on the bed suddenly reach out to the air, his arms outstretched, as if in a poor effort to push away an unwelcome presence but Ichigo didn't give a damn, even though he was yelling at the top of his voice in hopes of getting through the taichou. He grabbed this opportunity and slung the longitude section of the cloth around Toushirou's wrists. It seemed to have gotten to him somehow, because the air felt incredibly stifling after that, but the orange-haired shinigami tried to pay no attention to it and forcefully tied the hands down to the metallic bar by the side of the bed, tossing the taichou to his side.

Unfortunately it failed to stop him from clawing at the air. The bony fingers appeared as if they were attempting to scare someone off, but who, the orange head did not know and care. They had minds of their own, it would seem, he noted dryly to himself, as they probably labelled the cloth and him as potent dangers and instantly scratched into the skin of Ichigo's own wrists. He managed to pry one away before the ice rapidly encased it but failed to save the other from frostbite.

Ichigo was about to yell back Toushirou's senses, but Rangiku-san beat him to it. "T-taichou, r-reiatsu...!"

That was enough to bring him back. The reiatsu level immediately decreased to the point where only the barriers' layers' reiatsu could be sensed, aside from the remaining ice and mist shrouding the room. Unohana-san was still standing strong, constantly supporting the barrier with her own reiatsu to push the younger's back down. Rangiku-san lied slumped against the frost-covered wall, breaths shallow and quick.

He felt a stare coming and looked back at the Tenth Division captain. The curious yet apprehensive emeralds kept boring into his hazel brown eyes, as if seeking for answers that could be amongst the intense glances Ichigo was tossing at him. He was about to say something when Toushirou freed his hands and sprung away with a purge in strength, backing away to the opposite side of the bed. The shattered ice rained down upon the bed before melting and disintegrating into nothingness.

Ichigo took a step forward with his free hand raised and stretched out to the other party. "Tou-"

"...It can't be," he heard Toushirou gasp out. Ichigo looked on, perplexed, his brows crossed together. "You...you're the one, Kurosaki... All this time, it's..."

"Hold on, Toushirou," the aforementioned substitute shinigami warned, raising his hand to express his objecting of the other saying any more. "Before you say anything else, and give us a damn clear explanation about all this, you mind calming down a bit?"

Hitsugaya drew in a slow and steady breath, taking in the foggy sight before him, and exhaled. _'I hate to admit it, but Kurosaki's right. Regardless of who I saw, I shouldn't be panicking. I need some time to think this through carefully.' _He took another moment to look up at Ichigo, brows knitted together, before he looked at his surroundings once more.

Unohana had stopped supporting the barrier, then. On her features laid a perfectly indifferent and emotionless expression which spoke a thousand words about his condition, but it was admittedly much better than her serious frown earlier. Even amidst the fog, he could tell she was analysing the reiatsu he emitted as she continued to step forward. He then looked away and stole a glance at the blurred figure lying on the floor. It was undoubtedly Matsumoto. She was the only shinigami other than the doctor and the orange head who was in the room when the incident happened.

As the raven-haired Fourth Division captain patiently re-checked his vitals, Hitsugaya was careful not to fall into the abyss of his own thoughts. He slid across the surface of them, touching upon a few theories here and there, but didn't delve in too deeply. _'Think,' _he ordered himself mentally. _'There has to be an explanation for all of this. Ever since I've been having these dreams, I'm starting to lose control over the reiatsu I release. This is no different from the time Matsumoto found me those years back.' _Hitsugaya turned slightly, gazing at the unmoving shinigami on the floor. His eyes narrowed. _'A shinigami wields only one zanpakutou. It's highly unlikely that there is still another form of my power other than Hyourinmaru lying inside me. However, I cannot dismiss the possibility entirely. Kurotsuchi-taichou had explained it before, that it is virtually impossible for two separate souls to own the same zanpakutou, yet...'_

"A penny for your thoughts, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Hitsugaya merely shook his head, whether to Unohana or to himself was unclear even for him. "No, it's nothing, Unohana-taichou," he replied as politely as possible.

Kurosaki was about to step in when Unohana commented, "From the way your reiatsu is fluctuating again, I do not believe it is 'nothing', Hitsugaya-taichou. At this critical juncture, I firmly believe that Seireitei cannot afford to lose anymore of its captains and it is for that reason that I hope to be of utmost help to you, but you must also understand that I cannot do anything if you are unwilling to tell us what exactly happened to you." She fell uncomfortably silent after which, while continuing to tend to the Tenth Division fukutaichou.

Ichigo scoffed slightly to himself as he folded his arms, glaring at the equally silent white-haired captain on the bed. "Took the words right outta my mouth," he muttered, but deliberately loud enough for Hitsugaya to hear. It was a great enjoyment to watch Toushirou glare at him after that.

But the grin was scrubbed off his face the moment he heard the next sentence coming from the glowering captain. "If I were to say that there is a possibility that Kusaka is involved, would you still be smiling like the idiot you are now?"

"Wha-Kusaka?" the shinigami daikou questioned, baffled. "What's he gotta do with all this now? I thought he's already taken care of. What, don't tell me you think that by killing him again, you landed yourself in-"

And suddenly, it all seemed to make sense. Everything began to sink in like a sea of information that was hidden from sight but was actually right there in front of them.

Each shinigami has his own unique power that came in the form of a zanpakutou. This zanpakutou stems from the depths of their very soul, and every soul is uniquely distinct from each other. The code of life engraved into their core is different for every soul, giving rise to different forms of the power every shinigami wields. Shinigami sharing the same zanpakutou meant that they shared identical codes. Rare, Kurotsuchi Mayuri had said, and almost impossible, but the possibility is still there. Kusaka and Toushirou were fine examples of that possibility. Yet they had their share of differences. Hyourinmaru's reiatsu might have been exactly the same but Kusaka's and Toushirou's spiritual traits were differentiable from each other.

However, this did not mean they did not share the same code embedded in their souls. The manifestation of Hyourinmaru as both of their blades, as both of their power, is the sole and crucial evidence to prove the existence of a spiritual bond between them. If that was the case, then one of them dying would equate to instability in the soul code, as one would have lost his other share of the soul, and that would mean...

It was not the perfect answer, but it just made _so much fucking sense_ that Ichigo could not believe he understood it straight off the bat.

Hitsugaya nodding did not serve any other purpose but confirm his suspicions. "I know what you are thinking, Kurosaki, and I'm afraid that it is the best consensus I can arrive at. There is no denying that Kusaka and I wield Hyourinmaru, and as such, there should be no denying that in some way, we share similar soul codes." He glanced back at the staring Unohana, who remained in her kneeling position beside the unconscious lieutenant with slightly widened eyes, and continued, "I understand you need my co-operation, Unohana-taichou. That is why I am willing to admit that when Kusaka first died," he paused and narrowed his eyes before resuming, "I felt something resonating within Hyourinmaru.

"After that, I couldn't enter my inner world and Hyourinmaru continuously leaked out its power to my surroundings. However, it only lasted for a few days, so it did not catch anyone's attention that much. I can only assume that it was because the Ouin had already revived Kusaka by then. If that was what happened, then it only serves to further substantiate my theory. But I'm afraid that is all I am able to share with you, Unohana-taichou. It is merely a theory, one that I arrived at only a few moments ago, but I believe it should be of some value to you."

Her charcoal black orbs narrowed. At this point, she could no longer tell if the child was lying or not, but the fact he was willing to share certain bits of information was enough for her. "...I understand what you mean, Hitsugaya-taichou." The head doctor of Soul Society stood up from her position, retaining her indifferent expression. "I will inform the soutaichou at once and I will convey what you have just mentioned to Kurotsuchi-taichou for further investigation."

"And one more thing, Unohana-taichou," Hitsugaya added, matching the seriousness on his colleague's face. "Please make a request to the soutaichou on my behalf."

* * *

Upon coming to, the first thing Matsumoto Rangiku took note of had been the beautifully painted banner hanging outside the window.

Teal paint was splashed against the white background with some obvious flicks of ice blue paint over it. A faint shade of peach lined the blue paint along with an even paler shade of gray. Snow white lines were clearly illustrated on the blue. Matsumoto was more than relieved to know that the pictures of ice shards turned out more beautiful than she expected, as they appeared as if they were flickering against the window with the stars in the sky as accompaniment. Rukia-chan had done a marvellous job in adding the final touches to the ice pattern.

Strong and powerful strokes of calligraphy on the banner spoke a firm farewell to the Tenth Division captain. Yamamoto probably felt a huge generation gap between he and the young now, so he did not write much else on the cloth but it was good enough to know that he, too, had his own ways of showing concern. The banner turned out excellent and beautiful, but it did no good to the blonde's wounded feelings.

She was still trapped in the Fourth, but Isane had assured her that it was only for the night. Matsumoto had already heard about her taichou's final request to the head captain so she was fully against her staying but her fellow lieutenant continuously comforted her till she was willing to compromise. The Tenth's vice-captain kept herself confined to the room she was in and did not peel her bluish gray eyes away from that magnificent banner hanging across the roofs of the division buildings.

Her own thoughts couldn't stop replaying in her mind.

_'Taichou is leaving.'_

_'There's going to be someone else to take his place.'_

_'I won't be able to see him again.'_

_'Taichou is leaving.'_

_'No more of his yelling at me to get off the couch. No more of his yelling at me to do the paperwork.'_

_'I need sake.'_

_'Taichou is leaving.'_

Matsumoto rested her head against her folded arms, her long strawberry blond hair slipping off her shoulders like smoothly cut grass. She drew in a sharp breath and sighed heavily, as if she was heaving a heavy load off her chest, but it still did not ease her mixed feelings about the current situation. As if there were a jar of sake nearby, her arm reached out to the air and started grabbing the emptiness. She dizzily stared up, realising that there was nothing there, and quietly settled down on her bed, still keeping her neck craned to look at the banner.

Sometimes, even she had to admit that it sucked to have an addiction to sake. For one, she was so used to the alcohol that it no longer knocked her out like it did in her early years of drinking. She hadn't a clue what got her into the habit at first, but she remembered that her first few hangovers were simply unbearable. Subsequently she got the hang of it, and then she managed to completely conquer its effects. Her face would still flush and she would run high after too many a drink, but unlike Kira and Hisagi she could remain completely conscious of her surroundings.

Her own captain was going to retire. _Retire_, she emphasised to herself, and he was never going to come back. At least, not Seireitei. If he had Ikkaku's luck and recovered during his stay in Karakura Town, perhaps the soutaichou will allow him to return to Soul Society and recuperate further from there. But for the moment, she knew that it was going to be the last time she would see him. She kicked off the drinking habit only because there was no point in it. Regardless of how much she drank, she could not black out and disregard reality for just a few hours - she did not even ask to escape from it, but to simply ignore it for _just a few hours_ - but it seemed that her iron body would not allow her. So she abstained, and continued to face the harsh truth.

When she thought it could not get any worse, it did. Matsumoto could not remember much but she knew Hitsugaya's overpowering reiatsu knocked her out - something not even the strongest of sake managed to accomplish - and it landed her in her present condition. However, she still couldn't understand why her baka taichou had to go and make that equally stupid request to Yamamoto-soutaichou just because of what happened.

It wasn't like she was in any fatal situation or anything, and neither was Ichigo-kun and, definitely, Unohana-taichou. Why, if they were prepared for that, nothing would have happened at all!

"...Taichou..." Matsumoto whispered to herself, her grip on the blanket tightening.

"Rangiku-san."

She turned to face her visitor before she sighed softly and released her grip. "Ichigo-kun..."

The shinigami daikou stepped towards her bed side, his eyes glued to the blonde on the bed. "Looks like you know about everything now," he murmured, folding his arms across his chest. "And...you know that it's almost time, right?"

He was replied with a nod, so he continued, a little more loudly than before, "Well, everyone's getting ready now, and I'm sure the other lieutenants are worried about you. I asked Unohana-san and she said it should be fine for you to get off the bed for a while. C'mon. Everyone's waiting."

Matsumoto watched him turn, as if not taking no for an answer. Her blonde locks framed her slightly pale face as she slowly edged off the bed and followed him. However, once he was at the door, he stopped. She stared at his back, where his zanpakutou sat comfortably, and waited, wondering what caused the other to stop so abruptly.

Ichigo still hadn't made a move, but she heard him loud and clear. "Don't worry, Rangiku-san, I've agreed to let Toushirou come over to stay at my house while he recovers. I'll take care of the little brat for you and I'll make sure he gets to come back. A guy like him doesn't deserve to retire like this."

Somewhere in that little speech, she could sense the standard Ichigo-smirk he always wore. It was that confident and rather arrogant one when he faced opponents who were stronger than him or when he was a hundred percent sure of succeeding; she knew, because she saw it the time taichou's academy friend died after the chaos he caused with the Ouin, or the time memories of Rukia* finally resurfaced in their minds. He was grinning all the way, perhaps to prove to Soul Society that even when all the odds were against him, he would always go against them and succeed in the end.

When she sensed the same smirk, it was like a burden from her heart had been lifted. She followed Ichigo out of the Fourth Division building back to her own barracks, and sometime during the journey, her face had finally broken out into her first smile in days. _'Thank you, Ichigo-kun.'_

* * *

The moon was particularly dim that night. The glistening stars snatched the spotlight from the waning gibbous, showing off their radiance in the dark sky. They sparkled like facets of little crystals, scattered across the black blanket stretching over Soul Society. The night diamonds were in abundance, a minor but captivating phenomenon after one century and a half. Clouds of dark silver and violet drifted by, shrouding the skies. They served as puffs of mist, covering the stars with their translucency, but they failed to completely negate the brilliance of the stars. Those bright gems continued to shine on, even behind the curtains of clouds; even when their brightness was distorted by these curtains. They were like the warm, flickering flames of lit candles; almost like tiny rays of the sun, as if the large, flaming star's effects never wore off after setting.

Hitsugaya chose to leave on that very night.

It was a few days before his appointed time, and that alone was why it was surprising. The fact that he was the one who requested to retire earlier than expected stunned many of Seireitei, especially those who served under his leadership. Rukia had received some heartfelt 'thank-yous' from the Tenth Division members for rendering much needed help in completing the banner early, for it could finally be put to use. However, at the same time, there were those who thought that it might've had been better off if the banner was not finished in the first place. Then there could finally be an excuse to delay the farewell for a while longer.

The team sent to Karakura Town in response to Arrancar attacks - which consisted of Renji, Rukia, Matsumoto, Ikkaku and Yumichika - was led by Hitsugaya himself, so it was not all that astonishing to find Renji drinking with Ikkaku while Rukia became less active and lively during division activities. It was less so when Matsumoto could be found doing paperwork in the office with Yumichika hanging around appearing idle, but when the doors were closed, no one would be there to hear the Fifth Seat offer some comfort - in the form of fashion advice, of course, but Matsumoto knew how to analyse and understand his analogies by then, so it helped but it still wasn't enough.

No one would miss the farewell night for the world. Zaraki expressed this by claiming that he was attending only because he wanted to challenge the kid for one final time and there was no other opportunity. He ordered all of his subordinates to join in for the heck of it and he would not hear excuses - Aramaki paled at this - for not turning up. Fun was important, he exclaimed, and this was the epitome of fun. Mayuri agreed to attend so that he, too, could grab this golden chance to study the child's reiatsu and investigate it thoroughly and exhaust its infinite properties.

Starlight bathed the Seireitei grounds leading to the First Division. Its main event hall, positioned right next to the captain meetings hall, was where it would begin. The event hall was decorated in a simple fashion. The tables were set up, empty and all, ready to receive the dishes prepared by the best chefs of Soul Society. The tatami was smooth and clean, ready to receive its guests. There wasn't much else to it, with the exception of the long table situated at the front of the hall. It was carefully decorated with glittering reiatsu shards and crystals and a table cloth made of fine silk. The floral symbols of the Gotei 13 were aesthetically embroidered on the cloth, with the narcissus knitted in a slightly larger fashion than the rest.

There were fourteen tables in total. The main long table was housed by the thirteen division heads, and the remaining thirteen represented the main divisions. Each table could fit the respective division's fukutaichou and the eighteen seated officers. The other unseated shinigami, including Ichigo, were located right outside the hall with most of their heads bowed at their superiors with the exception of Ichigo who stood there scratching the back of his head. He was never good at social gatherings.

Hitsugaya was already seated in the middle of the captains' table. He could not take his eyes away from the narcissus embroidery right in front of him, but he repeatedly told himself, "Don't think about it anymore. This is only for the best." It was self-comfort, but it was not for nothing. In fact, it helped more than he thought it would.

Yamamoto honestly thought the boy was quite the sight in his majestic kimono. It was made from the finest materials of Soul Society and its extremely smooth feel could rival that of what nobles usually wear. The threads that created a dragon in Hyourinmaru's likeness - its claws sewn on the sleeves, the main body on the front and its entirety on the back - were specifically bound together with pure reishi glistening with a pale blue hue. The way Hitsugaya kept looking down at the flower representing the division he led added to the grand and solemn feel the kimono gave off. At this, Yamamoto's brows fell and he shook his head. It was a pity, really.

The leaders of the Gotei 13 arrived first. They were suitably dressed for the occasion, especially Byakuya with the Kuchiki noble house robes. However, Yamamoto could not help but express his disapproval at Zaraki barging in in his usual shihakushou and tattered haori, but it was much too late for changes in dressing as the other shinigami began flooding in. Only the captains and their lieutenants were given official permission to wear something more appropriate, so it was easy for the captains to spot their lieutenants amongst the sea of black except for Yachiru who was permanently stuck to her Ken-chan's back.

The clearing of someone's throat could be heard. All heads turned to face the soutaichou of Soul Society as he slowly stood up from his position - right next to Hitsugaya - and struck the base of his staff against the flooring. "Shinigami of the Gotei 13..."

* * *

_Behind the silhouette of the dark moon, a shadowy figure stared right up at the sky as it listened to Yamamoto's opening speech. A distorted arm reached out to where the moon was, while it was shrouded by the gray clouds, and projections that looked nothing like ordinary fingers curled into a loose fist. The clouds split apart; the moon shone brightly; the stars died._

In the middle of the soutaichou's opening, Hitsugaya made a sharp turn, expecting to catch whoever was exuding the chilling aura he just sensed, but he only found himself staring at the line of zanpakutou lying silently against the wall, and couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath.

When he turned back to face the large crowd, he was surprised that nobody seemed to have noticed his actions.

_It smirked. "Time to raise the curtains, my little marionette."_

* * *

_* The exact timeline for this story is: after Memories of Nobody, Inoue is taken to Hueco Mundo, but Starrk does not come to take her away after Zaraki's fight with Nnoitra. The entire Fake Karakura Town arc does not happen. Approximately one month later, The DiamondDust Rebellion and Fade to Black take place. This story takes place before Hell Chapter but after Fade to Black. Depending on Hell Chapter's plot, I may or may not include it in the storyline for Final Winter._

_Yeah, I know what I said in the previous chapter, but I had some extra time on my hands and I really wanted to take a break. I thought the last chapter isn't long enough to cover for so many months of inactivity, anyway, and I was hoping this chapter could compensate for that xp. Edit: I realised I forgot to mention that there will be two OCs in this story who will be playing major roles, but don't worry, I guarantee no OC pairings and no Mary Sue characters. They're simply there to drive the plot. =)_


	8. Saving the Fire

_A/N: ...I know most of you want to beat me to a pulp for not updating in, like, forever, but before you throw those tomatoes, I'd just like to say... I'm **so sorry** for not updating! I'm not sure if I'll be able to update as frequently as before ('before' being, years ago) but I'll try. Please enjoy the chapter! Thank you for all the support!_

_Disclaimer: I believe there's no need to say this, since the universal disclaimer is on my profile._

* * *

**Bereft of Hope 07**

**Saving the Fire**

* * *

"Don't you think Taichou's acting weird?"

A subordinate looked up, swivelling the empty bowl as if it contained sake. "Weird?" He placed the bowl down, grabbed the cutlery and aligned all of them neatly before staring at his second-in-command once more. "How so, Matsumoto-fukutaichou?"

Matsumoto sighed softly as she glanced back at the current third seat of the division. She rubbed her shoulder - it was stiff ever since she regained consciousness - and tilted her head to one side slightly. "You can't tell? He's being all fidgety and he looks so uncomfortable up there...plus, his reiatsu's practically bouncing everywhere in this room; it's giving me a headache."

The Third Seat groaned a little and scratched the back of his head. "Taichou seems fine to me... If I may say so, I believe that his reiatsu has always been like that since the incident last month. And pardon me, but I think that you've probably had too much to drink, which is why you're having a headache, Matsumoto-fukutaichou..."

_'You're one to talk,'_ Matsumoto mused, her grey-blue eyes narrowing slightly.

She diverted her attention back to her soon-to-be former captain, who still seemed as fidgety as she described, but he also appeared to be making an attempt - a really poor one, if she could tell in her drunken state - to make it seem as if nothing was happening. After knocking her head against her palm for a few times, she took another look, and noticed that he was grabbing the exquisite cloth draped over the table. Matsumoto glanced around but it didn't seem like anyone else in the crowd noticed; all was silent as every seated officer tried to pay close attention to the Head Captain's speech and the only forms of movement she could detect were their deep breathing patterns. Upon closer inspection, trails of sweat were rolling down everyone's faces, and their breaths got heavier and heavier as the moments passed. She subconsciously started to fan herself when she felt sweat trickling down her forehead too. Her face felt hot and she guessed it must be rather flushed because her subordinates were beginning to throw swift glances at her; was she that drunk? She couldn't tell.

Suddenly her palms became sweaty. She touched her arms and was surprised to find them wet and sticky. The room was starting to feel as though it was rooted in the sun. Everyone around her was staring at her, and through her slightly blurred vision she saw some of them gripping onto their tablecloth; rather tightly, even. At that very moment, the room was spinning. Everyone seemed to be dangling from the top of her eyes; the tables were drifting in mid-air. She tried to grab her sake but to no avail; her hand, as if it were intangible, went through the bowl. She then promptly forgot all about drinking sake and decided to stare back at everyone else. If she could have had seen more clearly, the looks on everyone's face were so glum and full of dread that it appeared that they were darting her warning looks - she would say that it is 'eye power', aloud, but it was definitely not the right time - and, surprisingly, she felt rather offended. Was she that drunk? She couldn't tell. Even if she were that drunk, someone should, at the very least, have the courtesy to tell her and then drag her out of the hall before she could potentially disrupt the entire ceremony that was meant for her captain.

Perhaps in her state of drunkenness, she had already said something inappropriate. Perhaps she was disturbing her neighbours by groaning for more sake. Perhaps, just perhaps, she made a wrong move. An extremely wrong move, in a state of drunkenness. It was all coming back to her; the times she pestered her captain, or the time she spent in the bar instead of fulfilling her administrative duties as a lieutenant...even in her dazed state, she was beginning to remember that one time when Gin left with Aizen, and she numbed herself by turning to drinking and of course it caught Hitsugaya-taichou's attention; nothing ever seems to slip past him. You can put a bottle of sake underneath your futon, place more mattresses, and pretend to be sleeping, and he would still figure it out; he was just that sharp. And it was that aspect of him that enabled him to catch on to her drinking habits which worsened ever since the three former captains defected from Soul Society. As she began to reminisce, she rubbed her sweaty forehead, eyes closed, breathing slowed - Was she that drunk?

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou. Wake up."

"...Five m're m'nutes, taichou..."

"...What insolence."

The abrupt bang of a wooden staff, struck down on the ground with might, shattered her dream-like world. It was as if a bolt of lightning had just sprinted through her spine and electrified every muscle of her body. She sat upright almost instantly and glanced around quickly. It wasn't a dream; everyone really _was _staring at her, even the captains sitting at the front, with the Head Captain standing and looking straight at her with his wrinkled and scarred hands on the tip of his staff - oh.

After an awkward moment of silence, Matsumoto Rangiku let out a soft, sheepish laugh while rubbing the back of her head. _'This,' _she thought, _'definitely does _not_ bode well.'_

* * *

The seemingly mangled arm clawed at the moon, pivoting back and forth violently, but its main body remained hidden in the shadows. The moon flashed once, and lines on the arm that appeared like veins glowed with a shade of crimson, reminiscent of blood. It continued to throw its tantrum at the moon; slowly, the arm reached out even further and pulled another portion of the main body: the shoulder. The palm opened, oozing liquid as dark as the midnight sky, and swiftly another arm stuck out. Both arms continuously performed the same action until the moon lost its brightness and faded away, now becoming a part of the black blanket that draped over Soul Society.

In the next few seconds, the two arms hardened. They crumbled off, leaving the elbows and shoulders sticking out, and upon contact with the soil they broke, like charcoal that has been thrown onto the ground. The flames that normally provided a source of light for the shinigami on patrol all over Seireitei extinguished, leaving nothing but smoke in its wake, the only evidence of the existence of the flames in the first place. Seireitei was shrouded in complete darkness.

The figure chuckled darkly and stepped out from the corner he was hiding in. There was no longer any light; no longer any shadows. Only darkness. He could hear and feel the scattering footsteps of the shinigami guarding the First Division. They were so light they were like feathers, or leaves that have fallen off the trees trembling in the air as they drifted down to the ground, weightless. He heard the doors being opened. Good. He walked right into the building as if he had every right in the world to, his steps unheard and his presence gone unnoticed by all of the shinigami gathered for the retirement ceremony.

He placed another limb on a shadow and melted into it. Without a beat, he had reached his target. Tendrils of darkness snaked their way into their host, who felt colder and colder as more tendrils sank into him, but the figure halted the process. The job was done. He bounced back into position outside the First Division building and leaned against the wall. He tried to fold his arms as he waited in anticipation, but he had none, and then he chose that moment to break into maniacal giggles.

_"...Shit, not again! Toushirou...!"_

He could not restrain himself anymore. He faced towards where the moon was supposed to be, stretched his neck, and erupted into roaring laughter.

* * *

It was impossible. Completely, utterly, totally impossible.

To most, it was also extremely ironic, for the whole First Division was on fire.

Things happened far too quickly; one moment, the soutaichou was reprimanding the Tenth Division's second-in-command, and the next, the entire hall exploded. The majority of the Gotei 13 managed to escape unscathed, but the same could not be said of the seated officers. They were the ones who were right inside the hall when the explosion happened; it was such a tremendous one that some doubted that their superiors could make it out alive. However, slowly but surely, one by one a few of the seated officers stepped out of the blazing building, some supporting each other while others who were unconscious were being carried out to safety.

The shinigami ran around to look for - or rather, sense - water, despite knowing that it would not be of much practical use. Explosions in Soul Society, Seireitei especially, usually never happen unless a high-level kidou spell goes wrong. One that was of _that_ magnitude was definitely caused by a frenzy of uncontrolled reiryoku, and that very fact disturbed the shinigami that escaped. It could not be anyone other than Hitsugaya Toushirou; wherever they went to, they could sense his freezing reiatsu, and the nearer they were to the First Division, the stronger it was.

Ichigo was particularly disturbed as it was not his first time experiencing this, and he could tell that the destruction this time was much more massive than he expected. He knew something was wrong when Toushirou was behaving like a nerve wreck. He kept looking around the hall, as if trying to find something, or someone, but when he couldn't he would simple stare into space blankly for a few seconds before looking around again.

He hated to admit it, but Ichigo was terrible at sensing reiatsu. However, ever since that harrowing experience in Junrinan, he hadn't been able to shake off Toushirou's reiatsu and could tell how the other party was feeling since Hitsugaya's reiatsu usually flares when he is in a particularly bad mood, and recently Ichigo realised that he could feel the way the icy reiatsu flared up. It was impossible to describe; throughout the speech earlier, he thought he was going mad because he kept hearing Toushirou's voice in his head. If it hadn't been for that, the substitute shinigami would never have realised that the white-haired captain was being panicky and glancing around.

At that moment, he felt something stirring within him that was no different from the time Toushirou woke from his nightmare. It kept escalating, and escalating, until it reached the brink. Without thinking straight, Ichigo had yelled out, "...Shit, not again! Toushirou...!"

It was too late, unfortunately. Although lasting only for a split second, the shinigami daikou had felt his heart literally shatter before the burst of reiatsu followed. The sudden compression in the hall caused by the overwhelming spiritual energies the young captain was emitting led to the subsequent explosion. Flames of a mesmerising sky blue hue engulfed the whole building, and they were beginning to spread at such a fast rate that the Second Division, which were nearby, was set aflame, too.

When Ichigo was forced out of the hallway due to the force of the explosion, he found himself grabbing the shihakushou of an unseated officer by mistake - he intended to grab the pillar - and upon reaching Seireitei grounds outside the First Division, he realised he had snatched away a very pissed off Rukia. A short argument followed; neither knew who started it in the first place, but when they noticed that none of the captains made it out, they put it aside. Without questioning each other, they dashed straight into the division building.

* * *

"Nii-sama?"

"Toushirou!"

"Nii-sama!"

"Answer me, Toushirou!"

As Rukia tried to avoid the pale blue flames, Ichigo suddenly appeared before her. "Any luck?"

To his dismay, she shook her head. "Hitsugaya-taichou's reiatsu is far too thick for me to sense even an inkling of Nii-sama's...or the other captains'..."

"...Damn it."

Although neither of them wanted to admit it, Hitsugaya's reiatsu was starting to make them feel sick; it was literally bouncing off everywhere and freezing them down to their cores. The flames were of no use as they were fuelled by his reiatsu. The closer Ichigo and Rukia got to the flames, the colder they were, and it didn't help that the flames had already spread to every corner of the room.

There was fallen debris lying everywhere, along with crushed tables and burning cushions. The exquisite tablecloth was not spared either. As the fire continued to spread, more debris from the ceiling continued to collapse. The pair continued searching.

"Wait, I'm starting to sense something..." Ichigo stopped the moment Rukia spoke. "This reiatsu... It's coming from there!"

True enough, they spotted movement under the pile of wood and torn cloth. They rushed over immediately and began digging through the debris until they found a burnt hand. It grabbed the nearest thing it could find, and the owner of the hand pushed himself up. "Is that you...Ichigo...?"

Before the aforementioned shinigami could pull the hand away from his shihakushou, he paused at the sound of the familiar voice. "Renji?"

"Heh, guess it is you..."

Using his free hand, the Sixth Division fukutaichou pushed the remaining chunks of wood off his body and sat upright. He then released his grip on Ichigo's shihakushou and breathed heavily, only to regret it the moment he felt the sudden iciness sting his insides. Almost instantly, he coughed.

"O-oi, Renji... Are you alright?" Rukia asked softly as he patted his tattered uniform, putting the tiny flames lingering on it out. "Seriously...you're some kind of idiot to breathe that deeply in a room filled with ice-cold air."

"Like I want to hear that coming from you. Aren't you two the ones who _wanted_ to come back here? Even after all of this?" Before Rukia - or Ichigo, for that matter - could retort, however, Renji flicked another flame on his shihakushou out. "If you're wondering about Taichou or the others, don't worry. They're fine."

"What...?"

Renji turned to look at the raven-haired shinigami. "Kuchiki-taichou's fine, Rukia, and so are the other captains. They managed to escape right before this whole damn building collapsed, but most of us didn't get away in time because we got caught in the debris. Fell right on top of us, you know. Man, never knew Hitsugaya-taichou was capable of something like this..."

Ichigo clenched his fists tightly. "He didn't do this on purpose, Renji, and you know that."

"Of course he didn't. The Hitsugaya-taichou I know would never try to kill everyone in a room packed with seated shinigami. It's a damn retarded idea, and Hitsugaya-taichou doesn't do 'retarded'. I was just saying that I never expected him to," Renji paused and, for lack of a better word, he muttered, "To...have a relapse. At this time."

The orange-haired shinigami looked down for a moment, then turned to face the remnants of destruction. "...You have any idea how to put these flames out?"

Abarai stared at the blazing flames and frowned. "Nothing but nuts."

Ichigo smirked wryly. "Weird. Same here." He received a dry grin in response.

Rukia simply glanced back and forth the two men, feeling all too relieved that her older brother was unharmed, but she still felt uneasy. The intensity of the flames grew with each passing moment, and she knew that the two of them were aware of it as well, so why...?

Before she could finish her chain of thoughts, she saw something glisten in the corner of her eyes. _'A blade? No, rather, a zanpakutou?'_ And then, right in front of her, Renji stood tall, his sword unsheathed. Ichigo, too, was holding his zanpakutou tightly in his grip and stood with his feet shoulder-width apart. Their grins widened.

"Well then, we should just slice through them!"

"Exactly what I was thinking!"

Ichigo then brought his blade above his head and swiftly swung it back down, yelling out "Getsuga Tenshou" as a crescent-shaped energy blast swept across the hall and destroyed everything in its path. As if competing to see who could cut down the most amount of flames, Renji placed his left hand on Zabimaru and, without calling out its name, wiped across the blade which began to emit a scarlet glow. He struck against the burning tatami, and exclaimed, "Higa Zekkou!" In response, his zanpakutou burst into fragments and flew across the room, slicing through the flames.

Before long, Rukia joined in the fray. She didn't resort to Sode no Shirayuki's techniques, knowing that they would be useless in her current predicament, and simply cut through the flames with a sealed sword. When it didn't have much of an effect, she used kidou instead, which considerably reduced the flames.

In a matter of moments, the blazing, bright blue flames shrunk and were reduced to small, flickering candlelights. Zangetsu and Zabimaru were encased in ice by then, while Rukia's palms were slightly burned from the impact of the endless kidou spells. Ichigo, proud of their success, smirked inwardly, and took one step forward in the direction where Hitsugaya was supposed to be-

_"No... You're not going to interfere with my plans."_

The candlelight he stepped on suddenly exploded, burning a hole right through the ceiling. Subsequently, the remaining flames were reinvigorated, dancing to the same rhythm as if in mockery. The hall was freezing again, and the air was so cold the three shinigami could feel their skin being burned. It was like being locked in a room that stored towers of dry ice.

_"It is time... My marionette is ready... Now I shall declare the opening of Act Two."_

Ichigo and Renji cursed.

* * *

The shinigami who wielded water-type zanpakutou were doing all they could to tame the fire and prevent it from spreading further; it had already gone on to the Third Division, and Seireitei could not afford to have it continue its rampage and destroy the Fourth. The healers were shunpo-ing around Seireitei, performing first aid, and transporting the injured, most of whom had filled the Fourth Division's barracks. They had no choice but to heal the others on-site before they could move the injured. Thankfully, with few captains injured, Unohana did not have much to do, so she helped out with the various squad leaders in performing their duties.

As she inspected the wounded, she noticed one of her patients walking around as well, and went up towards him with a warm smile on her face. "Ah, Kuchiki-taichou. You should be resting at the-"

"There's no need for that," came the blunt reply. "As Captain of the Sixth Division, I have to execute my duties."

Unohana took no offense, smiling all the same. "With the same argument, as Captain of the Fourth Division, I have to execute my duties as well." However, she let it slide; after all, it was not a serious injury. Frostbite would eventually heal, so it was no surprise that Byakuya was able to walk after all of his limbs were caught in the cold fire.

She decided to change the subject. "I believe you're here to look for your lieutenant? Unfortunately, my subordinates have not seen him yet. He may still be inside."

Byakuya's face remained stoic.

"And from what my subordinates have told me, they saw your sister re-enter the building, along with Kurosaki Ichigo..."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to stare at the building going up in flames; he was certain that the fire was beginning to die out earlier, though. However, he gave it no further thought and turned away, walking into the distance.

* * *

"Renji..."

The redhead kept his grip on his zanpakutou's hilt tight but didn't turn to the person who was talking to him. "What is it, Rukia?"

Rukia took a quick scan of the area, resisting the urge to pick at the dry skin on her burnt palm. "Did you...hear a voice just now?" she muttered, barely above a whisper.

At that moment, another flame burst right in front of their eyes like a geyser, and Ichigo didn't hesitate to slice through it. Renji remained unfazed. "You mean that creepy echo that sounded like a person talking?" When he caught her curt nod in the corner of his eyes, he gave a low gruff. "Yeah, I heard it alright."

"...Do you think he's connected to this?"

"If some guy with a messed up voice like that is behind all of this, I'm not surprised," Ichigo spat sarcastically. "Whatever it is, we have to get to Toushirou. Fast. If there's really someone out there screwing with us, I don't know what he'll do with Toushirou."

Together, the three of them continued to cut through the flames, and as soon as there was an opening, they flash-stepped. The manipulator was not going to let them reach their target so easily, and made as many explosions as he desired to stop them in their tracks. When they unexpectedly reached the long table where the ten captains sat, he brought up a wall of fire, and there was nothing they could do to get rid of it.

Ichigo's grip on Zangetsu's hilt tightened till the point it drew blood, but his body was so numb with the cold that he didn't feel it, and neither did he notice his blood solidifying and freezing. He said nothing as he raised Zangetsu over his head and swung it down against the wall, sending sparks flying all over the place. It didn't leave a mark, but his blade still managed to pass through the fire slightly, and he saw it as an achievement. Feeling more confident, he pumped in more reiryoku, hoping that it could at least let him make an opening. He saw that Renji, too, had done the same thing; using Higa Zekkou had rendered his zanpakutou's abilities useless, but it didn't stop the redhead from using all of his might and power to fight against the fiery wall. As if in resonance, the blade hummed with Renji's reiatsu. Combined with Ichigo's and Rukia's, they managed to leave a tiny hole open, but the moment the wall showed signs of collapsing, the flames spread to their arms immediately. The iciness stung to the extent that they released their zanpakutous' hilts and took a few steps back, with Rukia being no exception.

The flames danced more haphazardly as the voice laughed. _"Is that the best you can do? How pathetic... I was hoping Act Two could last a little longer, but I suppose it's time to move on to its epilogue."_

"What are you planning...?" Ichigo shouted as he shook off the earlier shock. "Why are you dragging Toushirou into this? Are you trying to make use of him like what the bastard Kusaka did? _Who the **hell **are you anyway!_"

"Ichigo..." Rukia placed an arm on his shoulder.

_"Hmm~? What am I planning? Why am I dragging Toushirou into this? Am I trying to make use of him? Who am I?" _The voice chuckled sinisterly. _"Your questions are indeed very interesting, shinigami. Isn't it obvious? I want to give Soul Society a taste of despair, and the only way I can accomplish that is through the little captain. As for who I am...well, I wish you all the luck in the world to find out. Oh, but enough with the chit-chat. I did say that it's time to move on to Act Two's epilogue, did I not? I suppose I should just destroy you and everyone else in this room before I do. Won't you like that?"_

"Not in the least, you bastard!" The substitute shinigami yelled at the top of his voice. "You think it's fun to toy around with other people's lives just like that!"

_"Fun? It is the most exhilarating thing to do when you have nothing but time on your hands, and I've had plenty! I've spent centuries perfecting this performance and I'm not about to let a group of children ruin the fun for me... Isn't that what you brats are good at anyway? Always being a killjoy... Always shunning my marvellous ideals... Thinking that the world only revolves around you... Well, I'll have no more of that. I'll use the most talented of children against you kids, and I'll have the Gotei 13 realise that their downfall is their very own pool of young talent."_

Somewhere in the midst of the mysterious man's monologue, the three shinigami got lost. The lunatic was rambling and speaking nothing but what sounded like drivel. They couldn't tell what his true objectives were, and what he was planning to do. They had no intention of finding out what his 'epilogue' was, however; if it was going to be as any bad as causing Hitsugaya's reiatsu to go haywire and set the whole First Division aflame, who was to say that whatever the man was planning for next couldn't be any worse?

Suddenly, the wall dissipated. Ichigo, Renji and Rukia figured that it was a sign that the man behind the chaos was about to begin his planned epilogue, but they heard a sharp gasp and extremely heavy breathing. Behind the fallen wall, they saw Hitsugaya's thin frame lying on the crushed floor; the sheer amount of reiatsu must've had caused the ground to sink in. Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief and quickly made his way over to the unconscious captain as the rest of the flames died out. There was an ear-shattering screech, but it ended as soon as it came.

Toushirou's kimono, which was once absolutely beautiful and sparkling with spiritual energy, was so badly wrecked that it appeared as if he were wearing the same rags the kids down in the more complicated parts of Rukongai wore. His hair was covered in soot and ice while Hyourinmaru, which rested in his right palm, was completely shattered. His skin was both hot and cold to the touch.

When he noticed that Hitsugaya was not responding to his calls, Ichigo lifted the white-haired shinigami up and carried him over his shoulders. Carefully, he walked across the debris; without the fire, the hall was pitch-black. "Sorry guys, I'm gonna have to leave this place to you. There's probably still some injured shinigami around, but I need to make sure Toushirou here gets medical attention."

"No problem, Ichigo." With that, Renji had gone on to look for his colleagues who could've been buried under the collapsed roof.

Rukia stayed behind instead, and held out a hand as she concentrated some reiryoku into her palm, forming a small ball of white energy. "If you need it, though, I can use kidou to provide some light for you."

The orange-haired shinigami smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Rukia."

And then the two walked out of the site of destruction, with Rukia's kidou guiding their way through. Upon reaching the large door, where the number one had been masked by burnt wood, Ichigo felt his knees give way. He tripped over his next step and fell onto the floor, as unconscious as the Tenth Division Captain. Before his companion could ask after his welfare, she too fell onto the ground, and remained where she was, without the strength to move on any further. As the world before her faded to black, she felt a pair of strong, familiar arms lift her off the floor, and inside, she smiled.

* * *

"It seems that there was some interference with my work, my darlings."

A man wearing a long trench coat walked down an alley, crushing every stray piece of glass in his way with his boots. When he reached the dead end, he stopped, and bent down. He pressed his face against some metal bars and stared into the hollow eye sockets of a bloodied body leaning against the cage. It twitched, and its movement jolted the other bodies in the cage awake, moaning. The sockets that he stared into glowed abruptly, and the body leapt into life, thrashing about. The man's lips parted into a twisted grin, revealing yellow carnivorous teeth.

"I guess I'll just have to use one of you to solve that problem, won't I?"

The lock on the cage rotted away, and the cage door opened with a creak. The rotting, bloodied body pounced out of the cage and raised its head to face the moon. It howled like a hungry wolf. Its hands, which had long, greasy fingernails, tried to grab its chest, but they went right through the hole that was right in the middle of the chest. It encouraged its howling, and blood streamed down its cheeks. The man walked over to it and gave it a light peck on the head before staring straight into the glowing sockets again. His own eyes glowed with spiritual energy.

"Do you see it, my dear? That's the naughty child who ruined Act Two's epilogue... You know what to do with him, right?"

The head nodded violently, and the humanoid creature leapt into the night before it melted into reishi particles. The man stood up, licked his lips, and grinned.

"Death tastes absolutely wonderful..."

* * *

_A/N: I'm very sorry if the antagonist sounds like a typical, clichéd villain in this chapter, especially since we've all had our share of typical filler villains already..._

_Still, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading! And to all who added this story to alerts/favourites, thank you very much! Do drop a review if you wish to. Thank you!_


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